


Tent City Hero

by Wonky_Writer



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Abandonment, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blood and Gore, Characters to be added, Daredevil - Freeform, Dead May Parker (Spider-Man), Deadpool Thought Boxes, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Fire, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Gangs, Gore, Heartbreak, Homeless Peter Parker, Homeless Spider-Man, Homelessness, Human Trafficking, Hurt/Comfort, I Made That Up, Kidnapped Peter, Kidnapping, Kissing, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Manhattan, Missions, Murder, New York City, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pain, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Poor Peter Parker, Rating May Change, Sex, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Smuff, Smut, Suffering, Sugar Daddy Deadpool, Torture, Violence, Vomiting, altoids, but not many, fire everywhere!, pyromaniacs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-07-28 11:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 78,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16241093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wonky_Writer/pseuds/Wonky_Writer
Summary: Peter Parker always knew he had been given the short stick in life, and now was no exception. He faces drastic changes in his every day routine when Jonah Jameson lets him go, leaving his finances in a fast downward spiral. Sadly, the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man soon finds himself without a bed, a home or even a phone. With his friends out of state, and his family all but deceased, Spidey has nowhere to go.Desperately he tries to get back on his feet, but a strange occurrence of violent crimes breaks out in the city and he finds himself right smack in the middle of it. Can he battle the elements, hunger, and the challenge of homelessness all while trying to save the world? Or will he finally meet his tragic end at the hands of this relentless organization?Luckily, someone is watching his back...or maybe just his fine ass.(OR)Wade finally finds something to spend his money on.





	1. If A Tree Falls In A Jungle...

“We think sometimes that poverty is only being hungry, naked and homeless. The poverty of being unwanted, unloved and uncared for is the greatest poverty.” The show host of the radio rattled on with some quote from some lady from some time ago, Morris wasn't sure. His eyes were trained on the flashing red and blue lights dancing over a taped off construction sight.

Quickly he drove his car up beside one of the marked police vehicles before shutting off the engine and stepping out. Immediately he was hit with and overwhelming stench, drifting on the brisk night breeze. Despite the utter darkness of night engulfing the small construction sight, there was no denying the source of that sickening smell.

“Another body?” Detective Moriss questioned as he neared one of the many police men scattered around the scene.

“Yup.” The familiar officer grumbled and pointed off to a shadowy lump lying in a large concrete pipe. The police lights flashed across the area, illuminating the figure of a charred body. By now there was no doubt in the detective's mind that this would be another addition to the long list of unexplained attacks on the homeless. Similar cases had been compiling on his desk all month.

“Any ID on him?” Moriss asked, but he already knew the answer.

“Nope. His clothes are barely there and the flesh is melted beyond recognition. I'm not even sure if there are any teeth left for you to check for dental records.” The officer said. Morris hummed in thought, scrunching his nose as a gust of wind blew another wave of rot right in his face.

“People are going to start asking questions soon.” The officer added, sending a glare towards the detective. “There haven't been any reports of missing persons...not yet anyways. But it won't take long before someone notices the beggars they pass on the streets everyday are disappearing.”

“I've been working the cases.” Morris frowned, catching the aggressive tone the other man was giving him. The officer grunted, turning his attention back to the report in his hands before muttering under his breath,

“With all the heroes in this town you'd think crap like this wouldn't happen.”

Detective Morris ignored the officers irritated comment and shuffled back to his car. He hated to admit it, but this was turning out to be one of the toughest and bizarre cases he had ever been assigned. Charred and dismembered bodies were popping up all over New York. All the victims shared one thing in common, each was identified as homeless, living in back allies and tent cities.  
  
Morris pulled his phone from his pant's pocket, flipping through his contacts. Perhaps it was time he reported this to his boss. The phone rang in his ear twice before it clicked and someone answered,

“Agent Morris.”

“Nick, there's something going on I think you should hear.”

* * *

 

Wade had his face pressed against the cool glass of the S.H.I.E.L.D helicopter he'd been riding in for hours now. They were zipping over the Atlantic for longer than he found comfortable but the mercenary was happy to finally see a line of lights off in the distance. There was no mistaking the brightly colored florescent and neons, and he could practically hear the traffic, that was New York City.

“Now you're In New York, these streets will make you feel brand new. Big lights will inspire you.” He hummed under his breath. Excitement and relief coursed through him simultaneously, making him fidget impatiently in his seat. He couldn't wait to land, to finally be back in a first world country. Of course, there were other things about New York that had him ecstatic; chimichangas, pizza, and of course, Spider-Man, but for now he was trying to keep his mind off the “webbed wonder”. If he thought anymore about that perfect ass he was bound to make the helicopter ride uncomfortable for him and the S.H.I.E.L.D agents with him.

“So what's the first thing you'll eat once we land? Lemme guess...a Big Mac? There's nothing better than a crappy burger after being in the jungle for eight months.” He leaned away from the glass and into the personal space of the agent beside him. The man in question huffed audibly before scooting as far from the mercenary as his seat would let him. Deadpool was not deterred.

“Or maybe you're a vegetarian? Vegan? Pescatarian? That's popular now right? Although I'm guessing you're not.” He gave the man's bicep a curious squeeze. The agent held his ground while at the same time refusing to even acknowledge the question...or the arm groping. Eventually Wade got bored pestering the poor man and turned his sight back to the window, letting a bored sigh seep through his leather mask.

Soon the far off lights became defined buildings and traffic stops. Their vehicle sailed over the city and Wade couldn't help but smush his face against the window hoping to catch a glimpse of his favorite hero. Surely he was out fighting crime at this hour.

“Think he missed us?” He whispered to himself.

{Yes! He probably has our picture set as his lock screen and stares at it everyday. Wonder if he'll have a welcome back present for us!?} Yellow chittered with enthusiasm.

[Doubt it. He probably enjoyed the break from your annoying ass.] White hissed negatively. [Also, I thought you weren't going to think about him. What happened to that?]

“I tried.”

{We failed.} Wade and Yellow responded together. White grumbled in annoyance.

The helicopter lurched to a stop as it came to a landing on top of a dark building in mid Manhattan. The agent seated beside Deadpool gratefully moved his legs out of the way as the mercenary practically crawled over him to get out of the flying machine.

“Well, it's been fun boys. Next time I get to pick the vacation spot.” He winked at the S.H.I.E.L.D agents as the helicopter slowly began to rise back into the air.

“Agent Fury will call you when he needs you again!” One of the men shouted before chucking a dark duffle bag out the open door. It flopped onto the roof beside Wade's feet, catching his attention. The chopper took back off high above the bustling streets of New York, and Deadpool was alone with a bag stuffed with money.

[How much did we get this time?] White asked, referring to the wads of cash in the bag that Wade was currently hoisting over his back.

“Don't remember...Nick said something about three point million something but who can really tell?” Wade said aloud.

[Uh, you. You can tell. Count the money you idiot. We could always put it in the bank instead of stashing it under our mattress...where you'll inevitably lose it...again.] the voice in his head hissed in irritation. White was always griping about something.

{Three point million dollars!? Now we can finally get those fuzzy Spidey socks we've always wanted!} Yellow gasped happily.

“Yes!” Wade agreed.

[NO! We did not spend over half a year living off of cornstarch and water and shitting over a hole in the ground to blow all our money!]

“Well duh, I've got to save some of it.” Wade assured him.

{Yeah, for chimichangas.}

“Beer.”

{Netflix.}

White was quiet, he could only take Wade and Yellow for so long before shutting himself off in a way. Stupidity was his only weakness. Wade climbed his way down the building as Yellow listed off the random things he wished to spend their earnings on. As much as Wade hated agreeing with the boxes, he knew White was right. He couldn't spend all the cash in one place and should probably save a large chunk of it, that way he wouldn't have to take another mission for a while.

“More money, more time, more Spidey!” He smiled, finally reaching the street.

To say he missed the arachnid was an understatement, he was having withdrawals. He could hardly wait to see him again. Every night he had spent in the middle of the Congo his mind had been back in New York, dreaming of his favorite spandex clad hero.

The mercenary made his way through the bustling night life of the city before finally arriving at one of his safe houses. The small apartment was cramped in an old brick building two stories above a smelly cigar store. His only windows viewed the dark alley way bellow and the power only worked half of the time. This caused his living space to be blanketed in shadows, something he was used to by now.

Wade heaved his bag of moola onto a large gun crate that sat in the tiny kitchen, he supposed it was technically his kitchen table. As tempting as it was to go through the stacks of green backs and see just how much he'd be able to blow on pointless novelty items, Wade was simply too exhausted. He couldn't even be bothered with trudging to the bed in the back room. Instead he flopped onto the couch with a groan, so glad he wasn't sleeping in a cot in some tent in some far off jungle.

“Concrete jungle over plant jungle any day.”

{The Spiders in the Congo aren't as cute as the spiders in NY.} Yellow added.

[Neither of them like us though.] White grumbled.

{That's not true! Spidey loves us! He always let's us patrol with him!} Yellow fussed, he wasn't taking any of White's usual negativity.

“Shut up.” Wade grumbled, ripping the mask off his face and letting it fall to the floor. He kicked his boots off lazily and let his head rest against the sofa's arm. His gaze trailed through the dark and to a small huddle of pictures taped to the wall beside him. They were skilfully taken shots of Spider-Man that Wade had cut out of newspapers over the years. His eye lids grew heavy and a contented smile spread across his scarred face. Although he always felt like the hero only let Deadpool stick around him out of pure pity, he couldn't help the flutter in his chest whenever he saw him. He finally shut his eyes, thinking of his reunion with Spidey, and wondering what it was the hero had been up to over the past several months. Hopefully he had been staying out of trouble.

* * *

 

“You're fired.” Now that was no way to start a week, Peter imagined. He shook his head and blinked a few times, maybe he was dreaming, he had, after all, dreamed this exact thing before.

“W-what did you say?” He stuttered, a horrible sinking feeling settled in his gut as the world around him did not fade away into his bedroom, but continued to stay the same. Outside Jonah Jameson's office Peter could see his fellow co-workers scuttling about carrying papers and files, ready to be published in the famous Daily Bugle newspaper. However, he was here, digital camera clutched in hand, staring bewildered into his boss' unforgiving glare.

“I said I'm letting you go Mr. Parker.” Jonah repeated himself. Peter blinked blankly again. So he had heard him right the first time.

“I...I don't understand.” Was all Peter could think to say. The truth of the matter was there were a million things he wanted to say to his employer, but they were all lost at the moment. His mind was a whirlwind of planning, trying to figure out what he was going to do about his upcoming phone bill on Wednesday, his rent due tomorrow, or the student loan debt constantly hanging over his head.

Jameson sighed and leaned back in his desk chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Peter...look. I've got to let you go. You haven't been able to provide pictures of other hero's like I've asked you. You keep bringing me Spider-Man this and Spider-Man that. As much as I love to post a juicy article about the webbed screw up, I need a diversity. Ironman, Captain America, Daredevil, someone! But you can't seem to be able to provide that for me. On top of that, you've fallen asleep at your desk five times this past week, and have been late on multiple occasions. It adds up. I tried giving you second, third, and even fourth chances...but for the sake of my company, I'm letting you go.” Jameson spat.

Peter finally came around to reality at the sharp creek of Jameson's chair as the man leaned back in it. He fiddled with the lens of his camera, trying to figure out what to even say in a situation like this. He could beg to Jonah, grovel at his feet and make the man feel bad for the penniless Peter Parker. He could lash out, smash the company camera into the glass behind Jonah and really make a mess of things. Or he could take the high ground, and as terrible as Jameson had been, Peter knew he was above making a scene.

“Thank you...for the opportunity.” Peter tried not to let his voice crack as he placed the company camera on Jameson's desk.

“Good luck Peter. You can expect your last check by mail on Friday.” Jameson added as Peter turned to walk out the door. He didn't bother collecting the things at his desk, none of it was his anyways. He didn't have extra money to spend on desk plants, figurines or even family photos. Instead he gathered his wallet and keys and took the long walk home, even the buss toll wasn't something he was willing to waste what little money he had on.

Peter spent the rest of his afternoon in his drab apartment staring at the barren shelves of his fridge.

“Ramen noodles again.” He grumbled under his breath, turning to put a pot of water on his electric stove. As he watched the liquid come to a boil, he pondered where he went wrong in life. Was it when he became Spider-Man? Surely without the duties of being a hero looming over his shoulders he could have gotten better grades and received a full ride scholarship. Or perhaps it was when he declined that spot on the Avengers when he was a teen. If he was an Avenger now, he would have the base to live at and wouldn't have to worry about food, rent or bills. Or maybe it was simply that Peter Parker had been given the short stick in life, everything had been out of his control really. His parents death, the spider bite, and even the death of his uncle and aunt. Yes, life was just determined to screw him over, no matter how hard he tried.

And screw him over it did. Peter had thought that maybe he could find another job before his rent was due. His land lord had already explained to him last month that if he was late again, she would be kicking him out. Peter wasn't picky, he wasn't in a position to be, after all, beggars can't be choosers. However, finding a quick job in New York wasn't the easiest thing in the world, and by Wednesday he was in a world of trouble. He woke up that morning to find his phone service cut off completely and a loud pounding on his apartment door.

“Parker!” The shrill tones of his land lord reverberated through the thin walls. Quickly he leapt from his bed and pulled on a pair of sweat pants from the floor.

“G-good morning Ms. Martin.” Peter spread his brightest smile in hopes to catch her in a good mood. It was no use. She was clearly worked up about something, her arms folded across her chest bitterly.

“Peter Parker, where is your rent money?” She frowned, jumping right to the point. Peter felt his smile waver, sweat starting to bead down his brow.

“I uh, don't get payed until Friday.” He could feel his mouth drying up.

“Since when?” She raised a brow, “You used to get payed on Tuesdays. The same day your rent is due. But you didn't pay your rent...why else would I be here?” She sneered, her wrinkled lips downturned. Peter knew he was in a heap of trouble, but lying never did any good for him.

“I uh...I got laid off. They're mailing me my check on Friday.” He watched as she went from mildly agitated to alarmingly furious in a split second.

“You were fired!? Are you telling me you are out of a job? Oh that's it Parker. I've been more than flexible with you, but I can't do this anymore. I told you last time if you were late again then you were out of here. I want you out on Friday, after you pay me the rent you owe.”

Peter's Wednesday didn't get much better, at least, he couldn't remember if it did. After Ms. Martin left his apartment in a huff of angry mutters, he was still standing behind his closed door, just staring at the old worn wood. He couldn't react, he couldn't even muster the energy to cry about it. Instead his mind went over the millions of things he needed to do before he was homeless.

“Homeless...” the word rolled of his tongue and drifted through the air, but it felt like a smack on the face. The friendly neighborhood Spider-Man...was homeless.

“Well...not yet.” He reminded himself he still had two days. Two days to figure out what he was going to do with what little furniture he had. He didn't have the money to buy a storage unit, so he would have to get rid of it. He had two days to decide what he wanted to take with him, then pick from that pile all that he could actually carry. He had two days to find the best places around town to dumpster dive, sleep, and shower. Two days to change his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all :)
> 
> I'm looking forward to posting for this fic. I have a feeling it'll be long. Usually I wouldn't post something until I had most of it planned out or maybe even completed already...but I just couldn't wait anymore. I hope ya'll enjoy reading about these two dorks. 
> 
>  
> 
> (Little Tidbit)
> 
> In 2015, exactly 2,493 homeless youth between the ages of 18 and 24 lived in the streets of New York. Although the percentage of homeless youth has always been kind of low, it has gradually risen over the years. 
> 
> Sadly, it is disturbingly easy to end up on the streets. You don't have to go through some crazy crisis to find yourself homeless. Most homeless simply can't keep up with all their life expenses and are forced to live on the streets, in cars, shelters or couch surf. 
> 
> Peter is now one of those unfortunate individuals.


	2. Not Desperate Enough for Shima

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is not willing to spend the remainder of his cash and makes the poor decision to cut food from his diet for a day. Really he should have known that wouldn't work out too well. Luckily, he's not above being hand fed. 
> 
> Sadly, what he doesn't realize, is that food is the least of his worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, I hadn't planned on not posting for 12 days!! Sorry guys. Mid terms happened...*shutters* yeah...I don't want to talk about it.

Space, that's where he felt like his mind was. Peter's feet may have been rooted to the ground but his thoughts were fading away and he almost felt weightless. If a breeze had blown he surely would have toppled over like a house of cards. The only thing keeping him rooted to the ground was the weight of his crammed back pack tugging on his shoulders. It was stuffed with school books, clothes, a few knick knacks he couldn't bear to part with and lastly his super suit and extra web fluid.

It was Friday afternoon, but for the past week now his life had felt like nothing but crappy Mondays. This was a new beginning after all, a beginning to a life on the streets but a beginning none the less. He figured he could blame the utter shock of it all for his current state of mind and drifting thoughts.

The whole morning had gone by in a blur, like he had been on auto pilot. His last check came, the money was given to Ms. Martin along with his apartment key, then he was out of the building. Despite no longer having a place of residents, he still had classes. His legs had carried him across town to Empire State University. It was the mid terms of the fall semester and he wasn't going to miss another class, no matter what. He had just managed to pay off half the fall tuition with what little inheritance he'd gotten from Aunt May passing. It wasn't much, and it all went towards student loans.

Stepping onto campus had never been harder, so he continued to stand there, a few feet away from the Science building. It was a small pamphlet tumbling in the wind that snapped him back to reality. It stuck to the back of his leg, a gentle breeze keeping it in place. Slowly he bent to retrieve the litter, his eyes glancing over it.

“Enroll for Spring Classes Now!” It read. And that was all it took. Peter's fingers clinched tight around the crumpled paper, crinkling it further in his grasp. His thoughts were dropped from space and he was crushed with an immense pressure. He crouched over the pavement, holding the pamphlet to his face, covering the silent tears that streaked down his cheeks. He couldn't enroll for spring classes, his education ended here. He couldn't wash away his stress in a warm shower, he didn't have a house. He couldn't lose himself in a comforting hug from Aunt May, she passed away last summer. He couldn't vent to Ned or MJ, they were out of state and his phone plan had been canceled. He had nothing.

He continued to kneel there in a sobbing mess in front of the Science building until his Spidey senses picked up a group of students whispering about him.

“Poor guy, mid terms will do that to you.” One of them muttered. With a sharp inhale he gradually pulled himself together, for the time being. His back pack shifted on his shoulders, reminding him of his suit tucked away inside, he still had that. He was still Spider-Man. His breath was shaky, but he crammed the pamphlet in his pocket and took a brave step forward into the Science building.

He managed to wear a brave face for the course of his classes, but that was all he could do. Every word from his professor's lectures went in one ear and out the other, pushed away by his constant worrying. In his rush to get out of the apartment he hadn't a chance to shower that morning, or eat. Would he ever get to bathe again?

Where was his next meal coming from? His stomach began to voice it's emptiness just as his last class was dismissed and Peter didn't hesitate to rush off campus.

He palmed the fifty bucks in his pocket, it was all he had left to his name. Despite his growing hunger, he couldn't seem to build up the nerve to spend even a dollar on a bag of chips. Those green backs seemed more precious to him than life itself and he couldn't waste them now, not on the first day. They had to last him, until he could find another source of income.

“A day without food won't kill me.” He huffed under his breath, scolding his own stomach for growling in protest. If he had been a normal human being then perhaps a day or two without food would have been possible. However, Peter was a super hero with the metabolism kin to that of a hummingbird. Maybe not quite that high but it sure felt like it sometimes, he could pack away food like it was nobody's business.

Against his better judgement he abandoned the idea of a snack and marched off down the street in no particular direction. He walked for blocks, slipping through alley ways and weaving through lines of taxi cars. He had no destination in mind but continued on. Anxiety pumped his body with adrenaline and if he stopped moving he felt he would be sick to his stomach.

He knew he should be looking for some sort of way to make money, or a place to hunker down for the night, but he couldn't focus. He was completely overwhelmed by the drastic changes in his life and it wasn't until he found himself back at campus that he realized he had been walking in circles around New York all night. The sun was beginning to peak between the buildings, casting rows of sunlight on the concrete jungle.

The early morning rays warmed his skin and gently pulled him back to Earth. He took a careful breath, noticing the ache in his tired feet and the twist of his empty stomach.

“A job.” He sighed, finally deciding on a plan of action. That's what he needed, a plan, then he wouldn't feel so completely lost.

“First, get a job.” He muttered to himself and quickly looked around to catch his bearings.

“Second,” he started towards a small coffee shop just across from the university with a help wanted sign in the window. “find a place to spend the night.” He added.

“Third, save enough money for an apartment.” He slipped into the quaint shop and was immediately embraced by a warm, fragrant, cloud of coffee. A few business men were lined behind the counter while a chipper barista rung them up. Peter scurried to the back of the line, eyeing the baked goods in the display glass.

“Fourth,” his mouth watered, “get food.” He figured that would really be first on the list, but he wasn't in the mood to be technical. As the line moved he contemplated what he would get. Muffins, scones, cookies, cakes and cake pops, they all looked delicious. Shortly, it was his turn and he was met with a wide smile and a,  
“Good morning!” from the barista. He couldn't understand how someone could be so friendly this early. “What can I get you?” She asked, waiting for his order.

“I'd like a...” he turned his gaze back to the display case, slipping his hand into his pocket to retrieve his money. His fingers curled around the wad of bills and it suddenly felt so small. He bit his lip, noticing the cost of the goods. “$4.50 for a muffin!?” He thought, swallowing hard.

“A small coffee...” he stammered, feeling his stomach churn, realizing that was all he was getting for breakfast.

“And uh...I saw your help wanted poster,” he continued as he handed her two bills. “Do you have an application I can fill out or something?”

“Certainly!” She beamed, retrieving a paper from behind the counter.

Peter settled himself at a corner table of the coffee shop, inhaling the warm smell of expresso wafting from his drink. The line of businessmen seemed to grow longer by the second, but nobody stayed to sit. Peter was alone in the small dining area, filling out the information on the application. When he got to forms of contact, he was suddenly grateful for his access to computer labs and e-mail at school, otherwise he wasn't sure how he would even land a job.

He practically inhaled his small coffee and finished the application in no time. After returning it to the barista he set back to the streets, beginning his hunt for employment. His quest led him to a pet store where he had a quick chat with the manager and admired the arachnids in their glass tanks. Afterwards he found himself at a pizza place, applying for a delivery boy position and practically drooling over the smell of the kitchen. A corner store, ice cream parlor, and pawn shop all made it onto his list of places visited. It was several hours later that he finally retired on his job search, having filled out over a dozen applications throughout the day. He couldn't help the small swell of pride he felt. He had done good and seized the day, refusing to be defeated by his situation and the curve balls life threw at him.

“Check.” he smiled, mentally drawing a check mark on his list of things to do. No doubt by school on Monday his inbox would be full of e-mails asking him in for interviews. Now all he had to do was survive the weekend.

With his spirits slightly raised Peter felt the sudden need to don his suite. The sun had long set and he had no trouble finding a dark empty back alley to quickly change into his red and blue spandex. Perhaps more careful than usual, he webbed his bag to place in a hidden spot before scaling the walls of the building beside him.

Despite the bubbling emptiness settling in his gut, Peter felt a surge of energy course through him. For a brief moment he stood there on the edge of the roof overlooking the city, eyes closed. If he tried really hard he could pretend everything was alright. He was the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man now, a hero, correction, a super hero. He couldn't let the troubles of Peter Parker effect his second life, this was all he had left.

He carefully stretched, flexing his muscles before crouching on the brick wall. Almost instantly his spidey senses tingle dully down the back of his neck. Off in the distance, several blocks away he can barely make out the sound of a scuffle, then a weak scream. Immediately he launched himself from the roof, and that was all it took for him to momentarily forget the burdens of real life.

He followed the source of the noise, now able to distinguish voices. There were two screams now, a man and a woman, and another voice. This one was quieter, threatening and angry. Spidey swung over an apartment building, landing gracefully on the roof. He had seconds to assess the situation, eyeing three people in a scuffle on the roof. A man was rolling on the ground, holding his fists over his eyes as he bellowed and cursed loudly, a canister of mace rolled over the roof near the wall. The woman was pressed against the parapet, trying her best to hold off another man who had a fist full of her hair. From the looks of it she had held her own, managing to break her attackers nose and mace the other. However Peter could tell she was tiring out and the man holding her was just bigger than her, giving him an unfair advantage.

Without so much as a second thought Peter shot a web onto the man's ankle, yanking his legs out from under him. By instinct to catch himself he released the woman, arms flailing in an attempt to regain his balance. He landed on the hard cement surface with a thud, cursing loudly.

“Piece of shit!” The woman shrieked when she realized the man was down. She didn't hesitate to send the heel of her boot into the man's groin making him howl in pain. Peter couldn't help a sympathy wince and quickly intervened when he saw her swinging her leg back for a second blow.

“Ma'm are you okay?” He called, rushing over to web the men up for the police. She faltered for a moment, clenching her fists in frustration.

“Y-yeah,” she heaved, out of breath. “Thank you, good to know there's still some gentlemen left in this world.” She huffed as she bent to retrieve her mace and a barely smoked cigarette that had been crushed under the scuffle. She frowned at it before flicking it onto the man webbed to ground and pulled a fresh one from her pocket.

“Can't anyone smoke in peace anymore?” She grumbled.

“Do you have a phone to contact the police? I can stay until they arrive if you like.” Peter offered as she leaned against the parapet and took a deep inhale of her smoke.  
“Thanks Spider guy, but I can call the police.” She smiled, folding her arms. Nodding, Peter shot a web and swung from the roof, off to stop another fight he could hear not too far away. His night was a busy one, breaking up several fist fights, some even between friends. He stopped a car jacking, foiled an ATM burglar, detained a peeping tom snapping pictures of his neighbor through the window, and even helped a drunk man navigate the streets of Manhattan to find his apartment. It was a long night, to say the least, and he began to notice it half way through his third mugging.

He arrived to a dark alley just in time to see an elderly gentleman receive a rough blow from a burly thug. The poor man's knees buckled and he slumped against the ground as his attacker began to rummage through his pockets.

“Pick on someone your own age!” Peter spat, flinging himself onto the man's shoulders. He could have easily webbed him up, but something about watching a helpless old man get socked in the jaw made him want to really fight the crook.

The man stumbled backwards, hitting the wall as Spidey leapt to the ground. As his feet hit the pavement, a surge of hunger rushed through him and his legs wobbled. Peter inhaled sharply, crouching low so the man wouldn't see him falter.

“Freak!” The man bellowed, pushing himself from the wall. His fist was wound back and he aimed right for Peter's head. Peter could see the attack coming from a mile away and dodged with little effort. This man would be a breeze to apprehend but his own quick movements was making him see stars. His hands were starting to shake and the hunger pains were growing unbearable. It felt like his stomach was folding in on itself and his nerves were shriveling up. He winced as the mugger's fist made contact with his cheek, taking advantage of Spider-Man's delayed reaction.

The punch wasn't that strong but Peter still found himself knocked off his feet. The mugger was looming over him, anger burning in his eyes. For a split second Peter panicked, his senses were thrown off for some reason and no matter how tight he clenched his fists he felt like all his strength had just suddenly left him. He needed something to eat.

“You're not so threatening now are you?” The man chuckled, leaning down and grabbing a handful of Spidey's suit, giving him a good shake. Peter may have been off his game, but this guy was asking for it. He gritted his teeth and flexed his legs, ready to send the man flying into the other wall.

Before he could teach the guy a lesson, there was a loud cracking sound and the mugger's body jolted. His mouth fell open as he swayed where he stood. Peter hardly had time to scramble out of the way as he came crashing down, collapsing onto the pavement unconscious.

“Miss me?” Peter snapped his attention up, eyes widening at the red and black leather clad man standing a few feet away.

“D-deadpool!” He stammered, staring at him shocked. Deadpool wore a bright smile, his mask rolled up to his nose. He held his katana in one hand and a thick burrito with a bight taken out of it in the other.

“How you been baby boy? From the looks of things tonights not exactly your night.” He noted, squatting down and checking the old man's pulse before using his phone to call for an ambulance.

“Where...where have you been?” Peter panted, finding himself out of breath. He finally pulled himself to his feet, leaning on the wall for support. His legs suddenly felt like noodles and the rest of him felt like solid lead.

“I had some business to tend to...S.H.I.E.L.D stuff and all that goos jazz.” Wade sheathed his sword and waved his hand in the air dramatically. He paused suddenly, eyeing his favorite hero carefully. “You okay there?” He stepped closer.

“Yeah...I...” Peter grabbed his head, trying to fight the light headedness. “I guess he just hit me a bit harder than I expected he would.” He lied. He blinked a few times before straightening up,

“So you're back now huh? Good...patrolling isn't the same without you.” He smiled, patting the mercenary's shoulder. If he wasn't feeling so weak, he was positive he would have been ecstatic, maybe even in the hugging mood, but currently all he wanted to do was flop down on a roof somewhere.

“You-you missed me?” Deadpool gaped at him, staring in disbelief.

“Well...yeah. But seriously dude, next time tell me before you just disappear like that. I was a little worried. Think I spent a week looking for you. Even asked the Avengers where you were but they didn't know...or care.” Peter huffed in annoyance, remembering the rather loud argument he had with them months ago.

“I-I'm sorry baby boy,” Wade was battling with the guilt and sure joy swelling in him, “I didn't think you cared that much. Honestly thought you'd want a break from me for a bit.” He chuckled, scratching the back of his head sheepishly while following the webbed wonder away from the alley. They climbed to the top of a near by building, one they visited often.

“Why would I wan't a break from you?” Peter asked, slightly confused by that comment.

“I know I'm not the easiest person to deal with. Annoying, pain in the ass, screw up...I've heard it all. There's a reason no one likes to team up with me.” He muttered under his breath, but Peter heard him of course, not much got by his enhanced senses.

“Wade, you don't annoy me.” Peter said bluntly. “Don't get me wrong, sometimes you rattle on and on, but I wouldn't want you to leave just because of that. I...I like patrolling with you. It's nice having someone to talk to.” Peter sighed, taking a seat on the parapet. It was true, Deadpool was one of the few people left in the world who he felt like he could really talk to. Sure he had Ned and Mj, but Aunt May had passed a while back and sometimes Tony could be a bit overbearing. When Wade had disappeared he had been worried sick, but he also felt incredibly alone, it was just him in NY. Of course, he would never tell Wade that, he didn't want the man's sympathy. The last thing he needed was for his friends to feel sorry for him.

Deadpool was quiet, staring up at the stars as the boxes chattered on in his mind.

{I TOLD YOU HE MISSED US! I WAS RIGHT!} Yellow shrieked.

[Why!? He has to be lying! Why would he miss us, we're terrible. Literally the worst ever.] White argued.

“Ah, I'm sorry Spidey,” Wade finally broke the silence, taking a seat beside the hero. “If I have to go again I'll be sure to leave you a note or something.” he smiled before taking another bite from his burrito. Peter nodded, letting his shoulders droop. In an attempt to get his mind off the hunger pains plaguing him, he turned to Deadpool,

“So, a S.H.I.E.L.D mission huh? What, did you go off and save the world or something?” He asked.

“Oh yeah totally.” Deadpool teased, speaking with his mouth full. “Fury sent me and a few of his agents out to the Congo. Had to eat shima for eight months.” He grumbled.

“What's that? Is it good?” Peter felt his mouth water, imaging some delicious exotic dish.

“Ew, hell no.” The mercenary scrunched his nose in disgust. “It's literally corn starch and water. It's all meshed together and looks like a big chunk of mashed potatoes but it tastes like chalk! Nobody would eat that on purpose.”

“If you're desperate enough you probably wouldn't turn your nose up to it.” Peter thought aloud, wondering if he would ever reach that point of hunger where corn starch and water seemed like a decent meal. Another pang rippled through his gut and he instinctively hugged his arms close, as if trying to comfort his empty stomach.

“Yeah, well I'd rather eat earth worms then that stuff again.” Wade shrugged, sinking his teeth into the burrito, humming in satisfaction. Peter made the mistake of turning to see what was so good about the burrito. A blob of sour cream had oozed out of it and Peter could see now it was stuffed with steak, beans, rice, cheese, lettuce and practically everything you could ever want on a burrito. His mouth began to water.

“Anyways,” Wade continued, chewing in between words. “we were out looking for this group of genetically modified dinosaurs. Apparently S.H.I.E.L.D hat taken out some branch of Hydra working with the Chinese government and they were making these dinosaurs to...” he rattled on and Peter nodded, but he hardly heard a word. His eyes were glued on that taunting burrito, it looked almost heavenly. Peter had to swallow the saliva building up in his mouth.

“...and when the agents went in they hadn't realized they were already created. Somehow in the battle they had accidentally released them and the dino's got out and were running around the Congo like they owned the place...” Peter lifted the bottom of his mask, able to catch the savory aroma wafting through the air. Wade didn't notice.

“....they lost a dozen agents trying to capture the beasts. Guess that's why they called me in. Can't die and all that good stuff. But let me tell you, being mauled to death by a bunch of tiny dinos isn't fun...it sucks.” He paused and cast a glance at Spidey. The hero's mask was rolled up and he stared at the mercenary in a daze, as if not fully contemplating what Deadpool was even saying. Wade was about to ask him if he was feeling okay when Spidey suddenly swayed forward.

“Woah!” Deadpool quickly grabbed Spider-Man's shoulder, yanking him backwards as he wobbled forward as if a strong wind was blowing him off the roof. “You falling asleep on me?” He joked, but couldn't fight the under tone of concern. Peter shook his head, breathing in quickly.

“Yeah, sorry. Keep talking.” He nodded. Truth be told he wasn't entirely sure what had just happened. He was daydreaming of how delicious the burrito probably tasted and then he was suddenly slipping from the roof and his head felt like it was filled with air. Then he had been abruptly yanked back to reality.

“You sure? You're not tired?” Deadpool questioned, raising a brow suspiciously.

“No, no, just lost my balance for a second.” He sighed, “So you got eaten by a dinosaur?”

“Yeah...” Wade turned back to the city, shuttering as he recalled the tiny claws and teeth ripping him to ribbons. “The hardest to track was this pack of velociraptors. I went through so many bullets trying to take those crazy things down...” Peter stiffed a groan as the sudden urge to vomit began to build in his gut. He needed food and he needed it soon. He mentally cursed himself for denying himself a muffin this morning and opting for nothing but coffee. He knew his metabolism was high, but even now he still couldn't bring himself to spend a dime on food. Maybe he could dumpster dive behind a coffee shop or bakery. The thought made him shudder, was he really that desperate? Was he low enough to eat from the trash?

“...but overall I think it was a success, didn't lose a single team member..” Peter turned back to Wade's food, licking his lips subconsciously. Another ache shot through him and he held back a sob. Losing to his urges, Peter leaned over Wade's lap. He gripped the mercenary's knee so he wouldn't fall, and bit down on the best burrito he had ever tasted. Wade went stock still, eyes wide as Spidey had practically sprawled himself out over his lap and taken a huge bite of his food. His breath hitched in his throat when Spidey practically moaned and muttered “oh my god,” through a stuffed mouth.

{*SQQQQUUUEEEEEEE}

[Is...what....did...huh?] White seemed at a loss for words.

{He touched our knee!! He's eating our burrito, holy shit! This is flirting right? RIGHT!?} Yellow was practically squealing.

[No...he would never...that moan though...]

{THAT MOAN THOUGH!}

“...” Wade couldn't muster a word and just gaped as Spidey took another bite and hummed happily. Wade could feel a heat beginning to pool in his abdomen, his imagination was running wild. He all at once got the image of an old commercial where a man was sitting on a bench eating Doritos when a woman jogging stops to lick the chip dust from his lips.

{Let's do what that guy did! Put the burrito in our lap!} Sadly, his fantasizing was interrupted when Spidey suddenly jerked up, a cherry red blush tenting his cheeks.

“I'M SO SORRY!” He blurted loudly, covering his face in embarrassment. “I can't believe I just ate your food. I'm a total jerk! I didn't even ask you!” Peter muttered into his palms feeling like a complete idiot.

[He's hungry.] White finally rationalized, putting the pieces together.

{What? No, he was totally flirting with us.} Yellow pouted.

[That explains how that lame mugger was able to land a blow on him. I bet he got dizzy from hunger, that's why he nearly fell off the roof right now.]

Wade's eyes widened, making a realization of his own,

“He didn't think shima sounded gross!” he thought.

[Exactly! Just look at him, he's practically drooling over the rest of the burrito.]

{Spidey wants food! Feed him now!} Yellow demanded.

Wade couldn't agree more and quickly held his burrito out toward his hungry hero.

“It's ok baby boy, don't be sorry. Have it.” Wade urged him, fully expecting him to argue and refuse at first. He was shocked again when Spidey didn't hesitate and took another mouth full, not even bothering to take the burrito from Wade's hand.

[Correction...he's starving.]

{Aw poor baby!} Wade was pretty sure yellow was sobbing. He felt his heart throb like it was being twisted in a knot. Why was the webbed wonder so hungry? Had he simply forgotten to eat, too caught up in his crime fighting to worry about his own health. The thought made him frown, his protective side stirring inside him.

“Spidey, you've got to take care of yourself.” He scolded as the hero swallowed the last bit of the burrito, a satisfied sigh escaping him. He licked the crumbs from his fingers, trying, and failing to be discreet about it.

“I-i do.” Peter huffed, “I was just...super busy today. It happens sometimes.” He shrugged it off like it was nothing. The last thing he needed was Wade poking around his personal life, it was literally the worst time for that.

“Sometimes!? How about no times. None of the times....you shouldn't skip meals.” Wade insisted.

“It's fine. Let's...do you want to patrol?” Peter tried to change the subject.

“We can patrol, _AFTER_ we get some more food in you. Maybe some fries or a bag of Doritos or something.” Wade stood, gesturing for Spider-Man to follow. The two walked across to the other side of the roof, Peter rambling on the whole time,

“It's ok. I'll eat when I get home. I don't carry my wallet with me when I patrol.” He fibbed.

“I'm buying.” Wade snapped.

“What, no! I already ate your food, I'm not letting you spend money on me. That isn't fair.” Peter stopped, folding his arms and refusing to follow the mercenary.

“I'm not about to let you go swinging around on an empty stomach. That's irresponsible and you need food....Look at it like my apology for leaving without telling you and making you worry.” He tried to reason with the arachnid.

“Nope. I don't feel right having you buy me stuff...I'm perfectly capable.”

[Stubborn ass]

{Let's just shove food down his throat.}

“I'm tempted.” Wade huffed.

“What?” Spider-Man questioned. He knew Wade was talking to the boxes but he was also aware he was usually the subject of their conversations.

“Don't make me force feed you!” Deadpool yelled, pointing his finger at Spidey in a threatening manner. Peter gawked at him before frowning and yanking his mask down in rebellion.

“Good luck!” He barked back, ready to run from Wade if he tried anything funny. He stiffed a laugh, refusing to break the heir of mock seriousness between them.

“Doesn't the smell of the cheap Chinese restaurant down the road make your mouth water?” Wade waved his arm in the direction of said restaurant and then at the air above them.

“No, it smells like....” Peter stopped, scrunching his nose as his spidey senses detected a hint of something off in the night breeze. Deadpool took it as a chance to charge the hero, catching him off guard.

“You will eat some fried rice!” He exclaimed, tackling Spidey to the ground. His grip was like a vice around Peter's waist, pinning his arms to his side.

“Deadpool stop!” Peter huffed, kicking his legs and wriggling in the mercenary's grasp. He knew he was strong enough to break free, but at the same time he was perfectly content with pretending he wasn't. Still, there was no time for Chinese take out.

“Nope. I've got you now.” He refused.

“I'm serious. There's something wrong. We need to go investigate. I have a bad feeling about this!” Spidey pleaded.

“Nuhuh, not going to work.”

“WADE!” Peter suddenly snapped, breaking free of his grip. “Don't you smell that?” He pointed off towards what could be confused as a cloud against the starry night sky. Wade paused, taking a deep inhale through his nose.

“It's smoke.” Peter explained. Wade however was wiser, recognizing the subtle metallic stench of coagulated blood. He turned to Spidey and pulled down his own mask.

“Hurry.” he demanded and raced toward the swirling smog of smoke several blocks away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't want the plot to overshadow Spidey and Wade being reunited so forgive me for a lack of actual story development. Things are about to pick up. Also, yes, "shima" is a real "food" in the African bush, I've had it and it's basically chalk. 
> 
>  
> 
> Random fact:
> 
> In 2015, (the last time this survey was done) roughly 5,200 people died of starvation in USA. Although a high majority of these deaths are elderly people. Being homeless doesn't mean you will starve, it just means finding food is harder. However, you do have to put dignity aside in order to survive. Digging through a trash bin may just be how you come across your meals for the day. (looking at you Spidey)
> 
> Although finding food might be easy for some, the government hasn't done it's part to help. Sadly, and strangely enough, some cities have actually banned feeding the homeless. Cities like Los Vegas, Orlando, Dallas, and Houston have/have had such laws in the past. In 2012 New York even banned the donation of food to homeless shelters.
> 
> "For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat. I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink. I was a stranger and you invited me in. I was naked, and you clothed me. I was sick and you visited me. I was in prison and you came to me." Mathew 25:35-36


	3. ...And No One Is There To Hear It...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spider-Man and Deadpool follow a suspicious trail of smoke, but they aren't the only ones alerted by the stench of decay. Unbeknownst to them, they discover only a piece of a much larger puzzle, and the whole interaction just puts Spidey on the edge. Also, typical Marvel style end scene at the end (that's what my beta reader called it anyways).

Peter stood back, hugging his arms close as Wade approached a beat up dumpster. They had trailed the smoke to a narrow back alley just on the edge of Hell's Kitchen. The eery silence in the surrounding area was making Peter's spidey sense tingle, causing his anxiety to spike. This wasn't normal.

When they arrived to the source of the swirling smoke, Peter had all at once been hit with an incredibly off putting stench, something he had never smelled before. The aggressive aroma was singed in his memory bank. His mask wasn't enough and he quickly moved his hand to cover his mouth, trying to keep that awful smell out of his lungs. Whatever hunger he had died instantly.

“Ugh, what is that?” He coughed, refusing to take another step closer to the open dumpster. “Is someone burning trash?”

[Naive for a hero.] White chuckled.

{No, he's so innocent, so perfect.} Yellow corrected.

“Once you smell burning flesh...you'll never forget it.” Deadpool deadpanned, remembering the overwhelming fumes caused by his own skin melting into puddles.

“W-what?” Spider-Man stammered, taking a small step back. Deadpool peered down into the open dumpster, his face scrunching up in disgust. Inside was a disfigured heap of a corpse, muscles bubbling up behind dripping skin.

“Yeah...guess he didn't stop drop and roll.” he said in his jokingly cheery tone.

[He almost looks as gross as us.] White sneered.

{He wins for smell though.} Yellow hacked. Deadpool took a step back, turning his head to take a breath away from the stench.

“Is that...is that a body?” Spidey asked, taking a few strides closer to the dumpster. Curiosity was starting to out weigh the unsettling nausea building in his gut.

“Baby boy, trust me you do not want to look at that.” Deadpool stepped between him and the dumpster, holding his arms out wide to block him. Peter wanted to argue with him, but at the same time he was somewhat relieved the mercenary wasn't letting him anywhere near it. He didn't need anything else clouding his conscious, he had too much to worry about.

“There's nothing we can do about this now. Let's just call the cops and forget we ever...” Deadpool suddenly stopped. Peter saw his eyes narrow before he abruptly grabbed him and shoved him against the alley wall.

“What are you doing?” Spidey hissed at the mercenary who was blocking him with his back, keeping him pinned to the bricks. Deadpool didn't answer, instead he drew both of his katanas, Bae and Arthur. Peter immediately snapped his mouth shut, what was going on? His spidey sense had been constantly tingling since they arrived near the dumpster, but it hadn't alerted him to any incoming danger. What had come over Wade?

Peter followed the mercenary's gaze to the top of the far wall where a dark figure crouched on the parapet looking down on them. Peter inhaled sharply, horrified that his spider sense hadn't warned him that they were being watched, why hadn't it gone off? The only things that didn't trigger his super senses were close friends or non threatening people.

Realizing he had been spotted, the figure stood, skilfully jumping onto a fire escape and then down to the ground. Peter relaxed when the moonlight caught him and he could see the signature red horned suit. This was the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, a fellow vigilante. Deadpool, however, only tightened his grip on his swords, preparing himself for a full on brawl.

“What are you doing here?” Daredevil asked, stopping just at the edge of the dumpster. He didn't look inside but crinkled his nose anyways, clearly aware of what was causing the putrid smell.

“W-we followed the smoke. You're Daredevil right? I'm Spider-Man, nice to meet you.” Peter held his arm out over Wade's shoulder, offering a hand shake. Daredevil didn't approach, wary about getting too close to the armed mercenary who's heart rate and heavy breathing indicated he was on edge and ready to attack.

“I've heard of you. You do a lot of good for New York, but what's with the murderous guard dog?” He asked, turning his attention to Wade.

“Deadpool, for crying out loud put the swords away, he's one of us.” Spidey smacked the taller man's shoulder.

[Who is this chump? There's another red hero guy in NY now?] White questioned.

{Spidey is ours, he'll back off if he knows what's good for him.} Yellow threatened.

[Spider-Man better not invite him to patrol. That's our thing!] White was starting to work himself up.

{...since when did you care?} Yellow asked. White didn't answer. Slowly Wade lowered his blades, letting Spidey slip out from behind him.

“As much as you and me may have in common, I wouldn't say I share any similarities with Deadpool.” Daredevil ground out. “I've worked with mercenaries before.”  
“Who the fuck does this guy think he is?” Wade silently asked the boxes.

[Spider-Man called him Daredevil.]

{Ugh, they're on a name basis.}

[Hardly. I highly doubt that's his real name.] the boxes chattered on. Spider-Man stepped between Daredevil and Deadpool, sensing a thick tension in the air. Meeting new hero's hardly ever turned out well. He was going to do his best to prevent a fight, he didn't have the energy to break up a scuffle.

“Uh, I know his reputation isn't that great...but, he's changed.” Spidey explained, then cast a quick glance behind him. “Right?” He thought, he had changed hadn't he? From what Peter knew, Deadpool hadn't killed anyone since their long conversation on the subject. However, it was possible the mercenary was simply hiding things from him. “No.” Peter scolded himself, “He's really trying.” he needed to believe the best about people.

Daredevil was quiet, listening as Deadpool's heartbeat slowed and his muscled relaxed. Finally, he spoke up,

“This is the third body this month that I have come across charred and burned like this. What do you two know about it?” He quickly changed the subject, gesturing to the dumpster beside them.

“Nothing! This is the first I've seen anything like this.” Spider-Man answered, turning to Deadpool who nodded in agreement.

“I just got back in town so I have no clue what's going on.” He admitted. Daredevil fell silent again, pondering his next decision. He paced to the end of the alley and back, leaving the two other vigilantes on edge.

“No matter what I do I can't seem to get any clues on this. I always find the bodies after they've been dumped and burned. There's no lead on a culprit. The victims do however share one thing in common.” He noted.

“What?” Spidey was eager for answers.

“They're all homeless individuals.” Peter felt his muscles tighten and his breathes becoming strained. Someone was targeting homeless people, and setting them on fire! His heart sped up and for a second he thought maybe he would have a full on panic attack. Why? Why was this happening? Why was his spidey sense refusing to stop tingling with this new information? “Oh yeah,” he thought to himself, “...because I'm homeless.” He clenched his fists in an attempt to reign in his nerves and keep himself grounded. He couldn't help but feel like now he had a large target painted on his back. Whoever was attacking these homeless people could very well make him their next victim.

Daredevil gave him a funny look, as if he could hear his inner thoughts. Trying to calm himself, Peter took a shaky breath, reminding himself that he could easily fend off any attacker.

“Do you have any idea why this could be happening? Why target the homeless?” Deadpool asked, stepping up and placing a hand on Spidey's shoulder. Peter knew the mercenary didn't mean anything by it, but just the small touch helped reign in his shot senses.

“What could anyone possibly have against homeless people?” Spider-Man added.

“People who thirst for blood don't look for a reason to murder. They look for easy targets, someone they think they can get away with killing.” Daredevil concluded. “Homeless people don't generally have families or friends to report them missing.”

“No one would even notice if they went missing.” Peter gulped. It was true, he too had no one who would miss him. His family was deceased, his friends were out of town and the Avengers only called when they needed something. If Spider-Man went missing then maybe NY would eventually notice, but not if Peter disappeared. No one was watching Peter Parker's back.

“Keep an eye out when you patrol.” Daredevil pulled a phone from his belt. “If you find anything out, contact me. I know some people who could help solve this.”

“Sure thing.” Deadpool gave a thumbs up, noticing that Spidey wasn't too responsive to the conversation taking place. He seemed dazed and Wade wondered if he was still on the hungry side.

“We'll let you handle this mess and head back to our side of town.” He gestured to the dumpster and gently grabbed Spidey's wrist, guiding him out of the dark alley and into the light of the street lamps.

Silently they walked a few blocks, until the district of Hell's Kitchen were far behind them. Once in their own turf, Deadpool turned to Spider-Man who was still uncharacteristically quiet.

“Come on, let's get food.” Wade finally broke the calmed hush that had fallen over the webbed wonder. Spider-Man visibly shuddered, slowly pulling his wrist away from Wade.

“No, anything but food, please. I've completely lost my apatite. I think that smell will be seared in my brain for a month.” He swallowed the bubble of nausea threatening to rise as he imagined trying to eat anything. Deadpool snorted, but he understood, sometimes just looking in the mirror was enough to kill his own hunger.

“Are you up to patrol? Maybe we should call it a night.” He peered up at the moon, high above the New York sky line. The night air was growing crisp and he could feel it nipping through the leather of his suit.

“NO!” Spidey blurted, wincing at the volume of his own voice. “I-I mean, we should patrol. We can't skip a night now, especially if someone is out there attacking homeless people.” He tried to sound convincing. And it was true, that he wanted to patrol, to catch whatever sick person was doing this. However, that wasn't the whole of the truth. He'd be lying to himself if he said finding the charred body hadn't spooked him. He didn't want to be alone, not at a time like this. The moment Deadpool left he would be forced to face reality again, to return to the struggled of being Peter. Where would he go tonight? Would he walk in circles around the city again? Aimlessly wondering until his legs gave out beneath him.

“Ever the hero.” Wade smiled, the material of his mask stretching to convey his amused grin. The mercenary would never complain about spending time with Spidey, but he couldn't help but feel like something was off. The younger man had let him lead him away from Hell's Kitchen, holding his wrist the whole time without so much as a word. He had stopped answering Daredevil and went tense. Spidey had been glancing around nervously ever since they discovered the burnt corpse and Wade figured the poor hero would jump out of his suit if he so much as said “boo”.

Wade was forced to set his suspicions on the back burner of his mind as they set off to the rooftops to patrol. They didn't speak much, except for exchanging banter with the criminals they stopped that night. Spidey was a sight to see in battle, like always. His agile acrobats showed off how limber he was as he twisted into flips. His snug spandex suit seemed to be joined with his skin, fitting perfectly to the curve of his muscles.

{And butt. Oooooh the Curve. Of. That. Butt!} Yellow hummed, admiring the web slinger.

[He's sloppy tonight.] White noted.

{What? Never! He's perfect.}

[Maybe if you looked at anything other than his ass you would know what I'm talking about.] White hissed. Wade, who had been trying to ignore their bickering, found that yet again there was some truth to what White was saying. Currently it looked like things were under control, but Deadpool could tell Spidey was off his game. The man he had webbed to the ground had way too much wiggle room and was starting to reach for the gun near his head that the hero had forgotten to kick away.

Luckily, Wade was ever attentive and snagged the fire arm before the man could. He didn't comment on the slip up and simply tucked the weapon into his own belt for safe keeping. However, this wasn't the only incident he had noticed. Earlier in the evening he had mistaken where he heard a fight from and had missed by one street, he had taken a fare share of avoidable punches and even lost his grip on his own webbing once. It was almost as if he was exhausted, and unable to focus on the patrol.

“Doesn't seem to be a lot going on. Maybe it's time we called it a night. Same time tomorrow?” He asked as they made their way to a familiar rooftop. Spidey, who had been mid yawn, immediately snapped his mouth shut, eyes of his mask widening.

“No. I-uh...I was thinking of pulling an all nighter.” He quickly tried to throw together an excuse to keep the patrol going.

“Really? It looks like you could fall asleep at any moment.” Wade folded his arms, a playful half smile resting under his mask. He watched as Spidey straightened up, trying to stand tall and strong.

“I'm fine. I'm not tired.” he fibbed. He hated being untruthful, but how was he supposed to explain that he was too frightened of being alone to let the mercenary leave him. He couldn't, not without giving away his personal life. So he desperately tried to formulate a plan to get Deadpool to stay.

“Well, I think maybe you could use some shut eye. Rest up and tomorrow we can go looking for whoever is out there burning up homeless people.” He waved, turning to walk away.

{He just offered to patrol with us all night! Where are we going!?} Yellow quickly interjected.

[He's hiding something.] White grumbled, ignoring Yellow for the most part.

“He's stubborn, but something is definitely up.” Wade agreed. Under any other circumstance he would have killed for the chance to pull an all nighter with his favorite hero, but he couldn't fight the nagging feeling that something had happened to Spidey, that something was wrong. If Spider-Man wasn't going to give him answers, then he would have to force them out of him.

“W-wait, uh...” Peter fumbled with his words, realizing the mercenary was about to leave him. His spidey sense was starting to tingle with the prospect that he would soon be alone and vulnerable. He was off his game, his physical prowess dulled with fatigue and hunger. If he went back to the streets and tried to sleep as Peter, he feared he wouldn't be able to fight off an attacker in his current state. He also knew he couldn't spend another night strolling around NY, he'd end up passing out from exhaustion somewhere. If only he could convince Deadpool to stay, if just for an hour or two. He could curl up on the roof, shut his eyes and not fear waking up to the pain and stench of his flesh and clothes being set ablaze.

Wade paused, turning his head just enough to watch Spidey, from the corner of his eye, struggling to finish his sentence.

“I-I want to hear more about your S.H.I.E.L.D mission.” He gestured for the mercenary to come sit with him.

[He's grasping at straws.] White noted.

{He wants us to sit with him! Go, go, go, go, go! Sit with him, tell him everything!} Yellow giggled.

“I already told you all of it.” Wade shrugged, then turned away again. Spidey may have been playing hard to get but this wasn't a game he was going to win. “I'll see you tomorrow webs.” Wade waved as he leapt down onto the fire escape, leaving the hero alone on the roof.

{Booooo! He wanted us to stay!} Yellow was reasonably upset.

[Exactly...but why?]

“First he's getting his ass handed to him and we step in to save the day.” Wade recalled, that was very odd indeed.

[Then he shows signs of extreme hunger.] White added.

{AND HE ATE OUR BURRITO AND I'LL NEVER FORGET IT, EVER!}

“Right! Then he refuses food from us...again, why?”

[Also, when Daredevil started talking about the mysterious burned bodies, he started to freeze up.]

{And he let us hold his hand and bring him back to the roof.} Yellow sighed, clearly not understanding what Wade and White were trying to figure out.

“Yeah, and now he's all off his game and he's getting sloppy. I know he's tired, he was yawning like every other minute.”

[But he refused to call it a night. He always turns in before midnight...it is three in the morning!]

{He didn't want us to leave. But we DID anyways, why would we leave? Let's go back!}

“No.”

[We can't.]

{Well let's watch him then...} Yellow suggested. Wade paused, he was several blocks from their meeting place by now, but maybe...

He glanced up at a nearby building, towering above it's surrounding structures. Without so much as a second thought he hurried over, climbing up a drain pipe like some sort of jungle monkey. Wade wasn't sure what he thought he would discover by spying on his favorite hero, heck, he wasn't even sure if Spidey was still hanging around on the roof. Chances were, he had probably gone off to patrol like he had said.

It took him some time but the mercenary finally reached the top. He positioned himself on top of a large vent box, scanning the sky line for any signs of the red and blue spandex. Finally, he saw him, curled up against the parapet on the same building where he had left him.

[Why is he still up there? I thought he wanted to keep patrolling.] White wondered. Wade's mind was racing with possible reasons as for why his favorite hero was currently sitting on a roof, doing absolutely nothing. What was the cause for all this bizarre behavior.

“What happened while I was gone.” Wade grumbled.

[Maybe he got in a fight with his girlfriend, they broke up, and he's all depressed.] White thought.

{No! Spidey doesn't have a girlfriend...right? Right?} Wade felt a small twist in his heart but ignored it for the most part, burying it down deep where the thought of

Spidey romantically involved with someone couldn't hurt him.

He turned his attention back to where his hero was curled on the roof, alone under the cold NY starless sky.

The moment Deadpool had left, Peter's spidey senses shot through the roof. Warning tingles raced up and down his spine causing panic to set it. He tried to calm his breathes, telling himself it was just anxiety, not a physical attack on his person. Yet, his spidey senses didn't let up and he found himself crumpling to the ground.

Wade was gone, a crazy murderer was running free in the streets, and Peter was hungry and tired and a bit on the cold side. It would have been so easy, he thought, to spill everything to the mercenary and grovel for help. But he couldn't do that, couldn't ask Deadpool to sacrifice anything for him. Not only that, telling Wade also meant he would be revealing his secret identity, his whole life, and that wasn't something he was ready to do. He doubted the anti hero could keep his secret.

So he bottled it up, along with many other feelings for the mercenary that he wasn't ready to process. Instead, he gave in to the overwhelming panic crushing him and silently sobbed on the roof. It was the second time since Friday.

“So pathetic.” He hiccuped, cupping his head to soothe the pounding migraine that was slowly building. As he watery tears began to subside, his spidey senses started to calm. Soon they were nothing more than a barely there itch at the back of his mind. He wasn't sure what had made it stop, maybe it was the long hard cry, but he took advantage of it. Quickly he stood, walking between the two large vent boxes on the roof. With skilled precision he spun a web in the shape of a hammock between the two.

He sprung into it, letting a tired leg flop out of the web. The silk gently swayed as he lazily kicked his dangling foot. The constant fear and worry that had been plaguing him sense getting fired was exhausting. Easily, he slipped into a quiet slumber, unaware of the world around him or the watchful eyes that calmed his spider sense.  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Another report came in last night.” Detective Morris slapped a photo onto the wide meeting table. It was a grizzly image of a disfigured lumpy flesh pile discarded in a half filled dumpster. The other agents at the table took turns examining it until it had gone full circle and was placed with the dozen other picture spread over the table.

“Same circumstances as the others?” Nick Fury, who sat at the head of the table, scooped up the photo, studying it with his one eye.

“Yes. Officials say the body was burned and left to rot in the dumpster just outside of Hell's Kitchen.” Morris noted, dropping a marker on the digital map displayed on their computer projection. “Autopsy reports show that they were able to match his identity from dental records. His name was Dale Ebb Dixon. I researched him and found he was a former convict, released from prison five years ago after serving a twelve year sentence. I guess he had trouble integrating back into society and wound up homeless in the streets of NY.” Morris explained.

“Again, another homeless victim.” another agent noted.

“So you're absolutely positive that there are no other connections or similarities between these victims? They're all just homeless?” Fury frowned.

“Yes. They share nothing else in common.” Morris affirmed.

“Why can't the NYPD solve this? With this many murders, there should be more than enough evidence to crack this wide open. Why is this S.H.I.E.L.D's problem?” He folded his arms, nothing about this seemed like a world ending crisis. There were no aliens, no time travelers or Natzi groups involved from what he could tell.

“I-I'm not entirely sure, but this is starting to show signs of a mass serial killer. When was the last time we had a serial killer here in New York? With vigilantes like Spider-Man and Daredevil protecting the streets, crime this serious has all but come to a stand still. Now all of a sudden there are burned corpses popping up all over town and not one hero has been able to stop it yet? I think something bigger is happening here.” Morris argued. He had already heard his fair share of lip from the NYPD, he didn't need it from Fury too.

Fury was quiet for a moment before succumbing to a heavy sigh.

“I hadn't mentioned this, because it has been the least of my concerns right now, what with the Congo mission and all, but another one of our agents reported what appeared to be signs of a new gang in town. The Pyroclan, or another stupid name like that.” Fury pulled a file up on the overhead screen. “They're hasn't been any reported activity with them yet so I haven't seen a need to investigate until now. It's not much to go off of, but I'm assuming they call themselves The Pyroclan for a reason. Their territory is fairly close to the locations where the burned victims were discovered. Morris, I'm assigning you to this mission. Find out what you can about this gang without stirring up any trouble. Keep it on the down low.” He ordered.

Morris nodded, gathering his many files and photos.

“And Morris.” Nick continued, “You have two weeks to find any new information or I'm calling this a waste of time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As horrible as it is, being set on fire is a concern for any homeless person. It takes a sick and twisted mind to exact such cruelty on another human being. 
> 
> In 2016, a man in San Diego attacked four homeless people and set them on fire. Two died of their injuries. Expert on hate/extremism crime, Brian Levin, claims that attacks on the homeless are significantly underreported. 
> 
> Back in July of this year, two homeless men were set of fire in a Berlin train station. Some of these hateful acts were even filmed and put on popular sites where they are still up for the public to stumble across. 
> 
> I know sometimes these things sound far fetched and unbelievable, but it does happen, and it happens a lot. Hopefully Peter can get back on his feet before something similar happens to him. *sad sigh* 
> 
> (My beta reader says these little notes remind her of PSA's...am I being too preachy for you guys? Or do you enjoy the random little fact tid-bits?)


	4. Extra! Extra!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Detective Morris is searching for clues and thinks he's found a lead after a newspaper stand gets set ablaze in the middle of a cold New York morning. Meanwhile, Spidey realizes his life in the streets may be more permanent than he had hoped.

The sun had hardly peeked over the horizon, the chill night air still lingering over New York. Yet, this was the city that never slept, so it was no surprise to Officer Vernon that he was spending the first hour of his shift speeding through town after a crazed, fire starting, lunatic.

“I found one of those Pyro gang members you wanted me to look out for!” Vernon yelled into his phone while trying to weave through traffic.

“What!? Where are you? Have you apprehended them?” Detective Morris exclaimed from the other end.

“No, but we're working on it!” He swerved his cop car around a taxi and onto the sidewalk before skidding back into the street. “Some maniac in a hoodie and sweatpants lit a Daily Bugle newspaper stand on fire after making a huge scene. I have officers in bound on foot and I'm pursuing in my car.” He explained, watching as the perpetrator leapt over another cop car that had ran up onto the pavement to block his path. “I'll call you back. This guys is unbelievably fast.” The officer hung up on Morris and zipped past another cop in pursuit.

If only it was night, then he knew this crazed man would have been caught by now. Vigilantes had taken control of the crime that happened when the sun set, but the day time belonged to the cops, and criminals were getting bolder in the sunlight.

Vernon watched as one officer strolling the streets ahead turned just in time to see the chase at hand. The hooded man was headed straight for him, maybe now this would finally be over. The other cop ripped her taser from her belt and readied herself for a fight. Just as she fired a shot, the man jerked to the side and bolted into a thin back alley. He narrowly avoided the electrical wires from the officer's weapon and whooped in victory.

{That was a close one.}

[We're losing our touch.]

“Nah I've got this.”

Within seconds the New York police were flooding into the small alley while Vernon rolled around the block to cut off the man's escape route.

“He's cornered now!” One of them shouted, reaching for the cuffs on his belt. As the police surrounded the small alley they all stopped in their tracks, staring in bewilderment at the empty back street.

“Where did he go!?” One of them shouted.

{Yeah, where DID we go?}Yellow asked.

[Up?]

“I can't tell, I can't see anything.” Wade scoffed. One second he was running from the cops, the next thing he knew he was yanked off his feet and pulled into the air after something attached to his sweatshirt. His hoodie was pulled up over the eyes of his mask and he couldn't really see.

Wade’s breath was ripped from him as he made a hard impact with the cement roof of one of the buildings near the alley. He rolled on the roof trying to get to his feet, but the hood still blocked his vision.

“You must be the one that almost got away.” He heard a familiar voice taunt him. Wade didn’t get a chance to come up with a witty reply before he was roughly pulled to his feet and his hoodie finally slipped back down.

“W-Wade!” Deadpool smiled when he was met face to face with Spider-Man who gasped when he recognized the red mask under the dingy hoodie.

“Guilty as charged.” Wade answered, his mask stretching to display his cheery attitude.

“W...why are you running from the police?” Spidey dropped his voice to a whisper, not wanting the officers bellow to hear them. He grabbed the mercenaries shoulder and led him away from the edge, hoping the police wouldn’t get the idea to check the roof. “And why are you wearing a sweatshirt?”

{It really has been a long morning hasn’t it?} Yellow muttered.

[We never did get those doughnuts.] White reminded them,

{We got sidetracked. Don’t hate.}

“Uh, I went out for some breakfast doughnuts.” Wade explained, plopping himself down on a vent box while he caught his breath.

“Last time I checked it wasn’t a crime to go get breakfast. Why were the police chasing you? What did you do?” Spider-Man shot him a glare, but Deadpool didn’t get a chance to answer. As the officers dispersed from the alley, one of them began to belay orders.

“The arsen got away. Set up a six block perimeter.”

“Arsen!?” Spidey exclaimed, eyes widening. A shiver ran down his spine, but it wasn’t his spidey senses. It was his own mind, letting his imagination run wild. Was it possible Deadpool had been behind those burned bodies all along? He had to stop and shake his head, Wade would never do anything like that. He was ashamed for even entertaining the thought for such a brief moment.

[Uh oh, he does not look happy. Better explain yourself.] White warned him as Spider-Man turned back to face the mercenary.

{Yes, tell him what we did and why we did it and he’ll probably love us forever!} Yellow chimed in.

“Don’t worry, it was just a newspaper stand.” Wade shrugged, trying to play it off.

“You burned down a newspaper stand!? W-why would you do that? You realize that is illegal and a horrible crime and the newspaper boy is out of a job now. You need to fix this!” Spidey demanded, folding his arms in disappointment. Sometimes he worried about Wade, and wondered if there ever really was any hope left for him.

“Relax, I gave the paper boy a shit load of cash, probably too much cash. The stand wasn’t his anyways, it belonged to the Daily Bugle.” Deadpool pouted, this wasn’t the gratitude he was expecting to get.

Spidey paused as a twinge of glorious revenge tingled through him. He couldn’t help but feel like Jonah had had this coming, after all, he was the one who fired him. Still, that didn’t make what Deadpool had done right, in any sense of the word.

“Look, I feel like I shouldn’t have to explain this to you, but I will and I’m only going to say it once. We do NOT set newspaper stands, or any stands...or ANYTHING on fire. It doesn’t matter how much money you throw at someone. It is dangerous and you could have seriously hurt a passing civilian. Not only that, the police have real problems to fix without having to chase you around downtown.” He scolded. Despite it all, he found he was more confused than upset.

“What made you want to burn it down anyways?” He just had to know. He knew Deadpool could be a little bit on the crazy side at times, but there was no way he was insane enough to set fire to something in the middle of the city streets for no reason.

{Tell him. Then kiss him...yeah this is totally romantic.} Yellow encouraged.

[Nothing about this is romantic at all. Can’t you see Spider-Man is upset?] White disagreed.

“I...I didn’t like the front page…” Wade was blunt.

“You didn’t like the front page?” Spidey repeated, “Well...what in the world did it say to piss you off enough that you felt the need to set the whole stand on fire? That’s a little excessive don’t you think?” He heaved a sigh before taking a seat next to the mercenary, sometimes Wade was just too much of a brain teaser. He watched as Deadpool fished out a folded up paper from the pocket of his hoodie, plopping it down in the webbed wonder’s lap. Spidey went quiet as he unfolded the rolled up newspaper and read the bold headline.

“Hero Hates the Homeless.” Right bellow it was a photo of Spider-Man flipping over an apartment building. Peter felt his blood begin to boil. Hadn't Jonah fired him over too many Spider-Man photos? And yet here he was still wasting his precious time publishing fake articles just to slander Spider-Man. He was speechless, skimming through the article with horrified shock. Sure he had read some nasty articles about himself, but never one that made him out to be so heartless. If only Jonah knew the real situation the hero was in.

“When I saw they were using this new tragedy just to run your name through the dirt...I had to do something. I couldn't let people read those things. They would start believing it. Nothing in the article even talks about the homeless people being attacked. The writer just used it as an opportunity to bash you because you haven't saved any of them yet or caught the person doing it.” Deadpool ground out through gritted teeth. Just thinking of the article made him seething mad.

Peter felt his heart twist, or maybe it was his stomach, he wasn't sure at this point, but either way, he had a sudden overpowering urge to hug the mercenary beside him.

“Thank you, I-”

“I mean come on, there are other heroes in this ungrateful town. What about them? What about me? I haven't done a thing to help the homeless either.” Deadpool ranted.

“Deadpool, I-”

“And you're like the nicest hero I've ever met...heck you're probably the nicest person I know. You always give me a second chance.”

[And we're more worthless than anyone on this miserable planet]. White chimed in.

“Wade!” Spidey had to practically shout to catch his attention. Wade paused, turning to stare into the blank eyes of Spider-Man's mask. “Thank you, for thinking about my image.” He handed the newspaper back to him.

“Don't mention it. I think about your image all the time...if you know what I mean.” He ripped the picture of Spider-Man off the front page and stuffed it in his boot then retrieved a lighter and proceeded to burn the last paper.

Peter watched silently as the paper crinkled and turned to ash in the small flame. It was surreal when he realized that Wade thought about him even when they weren't together. He was looking out for him even when he didn't have to, and it brought Peter a brief moment of comfort. Whenever Deadpool was with him he felt at ease, able to momentarily forget about his real life struggles. He entertained the idea of returning the mercenaries flirtations, and maybe he would if he could ever get his life back in order.

His moment of thoughtful solitude was interrupted as Deadpool cleared his throat. Something was bothering the mercenary, Peter could tell by the way he fidgeted with his hands and almost looked uncomfortable next to the hero.

“What uh...are you doing out and about at this hour?” He blurted it out. After getting over his initial shock of being yanked off the streets, Deadpool had realized that it was in fact very out of character for Spider-Man to be on patrol in the morning. This was something he had never witnessed before. To top it all off, just the other night he had watched the hero stay out hours past his usual quitting time. Not only that, he hadn't even gone home and had taken up in a web hammock on the roof for a night. Eventually Deadpool had fallen asleep watching him, and woke up the next morning to what was left of an empty tattered silk hammock left where Spider-Man had been.

It was all out of character, even the burrito incident which the mercenary played on loop in his mind right before bed every night.

[I've been telling you two idiots that something has been up with Spider-Man ever since we got back from our Congo mission. What happened while we were gone?] White was ever suspicious...like always.

“Nothing...I was just in the area when I heard the sirens and came over to investigate.” Peter fibbed. Truth be told, he had been in his super suit for the past twelve hours, hopping from roof to roof in an attempt to find a place he felt comfortable sleeping. He never found a place where he felt secure enough to take more than a brief nap.

[Has he even gone home since the last time we saw him?] White wondered.

“Doesn't seem like it.” Wade thought silently, agreeing with White, Yellow was oddly quiet. Too many things seemed off, and Wade's “mercenary senses” were tingling.

{You don't think....*sob* his girlfriend kicked him out like White said?} Yellow finally spoke up, he sounded like a complete mess. A wave of overwhelming disappointment washed over Wade and he found himself blinking back tears.

{He can live with us! He doesn't need her!} Yellow was bawling now. Before Wade even had a chance to process his thoughts, he was speaking.

“I'm sure if you just apologize and bring her flowers, she'll at least let you sleep on the couch.”

Spider-Man cocked his head in confusion, one eye squinting as he stared at the mercenary.

“Huh?” He voiced his lack of understanding.

“Your girlfriend.” Wade muttered, as if the words tasted bitter coming out of his mouth.

“I don't have a girlfriend...what are you talking about?” Deadpool never failed to say something to confuse the poor hero.

“You...”

[Careful, do we really want him to know we were watching him?]

“I... I saw you sleeping on a roof while I was running errands...and the other night when you didn't want to go home. I just assumed that maybe...you had gotten in a fight with your girlfriend and she kicked you out or something.” He shrugged, feeling a bit sheepish.

“Wha...I-n....no...” Spidey was fumbling with his words, he wasn't sure how he felt about Deadpool calling him out for sleeping on the roofs. He couldn't even come up with a sorry excuse, let alone a good one.

“So no girlfriend...boyfriend then?” Wade teased.

{If he does have one...then I don't want to know. Blissful ignorance is my best friend.} Yellow pouted.

[Tell me about it.]

“No. I don't have anyone like that.” Spider-Man grumbled, yup, he was irritated now. “You better not be following me around Wade.” He warned. It was already difficult trying to get back on his feet without having to worry about revealing his secret identity to Wade Wilson. He walked towards the edge of the building, Deadpool didn't try to stop him, he knew he had more than likely crossed a line.

“I should go.” Spidey muttered. He quickly cast a web and swung away, catching the morning sun on his suit before he disappeared from sight.

[Great job genius, now he thinks we're stalkers.]

{Ooooh, great idea let's stalk him!} Yellow cheered.

“No, I'm trying to get him to like me, not hate me.” Wade reminded them. “But I can't help but feel like something is off.”

[No shit Sherlock. He's hiding something.] White fussed. Wade heaved a heavy sigh of frustration. It tore him up inside wondering what was wrong with his baby boy, all he wanted to do was help him through whatever troubles he may be having. If only Spidey would open up and let him in.

[He's too stubborn.]

{Who cares if he doesn't tell us. Let's just find out on our own. What if he's in trouble? You know he would never willingly ask for help, what if he's in some real trouble here?} Yellow rationalized.

[...I hate to admit it...but he does have a point.]

“What are you suggesting?” Wade rubbed his temples, thinking this much always gave him a headache.

[I suggest we get off this roof and think about this later. We still have the police to worry about.] White reminded him.

“We're not out of the woods yet.” Wade peeked over the roof, keeping an eye on an officer just across the street. He put Spidey on the back burner in his mind, right now he had his own problems to deal with.

It was nearing nine in the morning, when Spidey swung to the rooftop where he had securely webbed up his bag. He had a few minutes to change and hurry to campus before classes started. His suit stuck to his skin with sweat and grime from the weekend of crime fighting. It was the longest he had donned the suit without taking it off completely. He had even slept in the thing.

The moment it was stuffed back in the bottom of his bag, under his last remaining possessions, he was no longer a hero. He was a penniless young adult in the bustling city of NY, while a murderer with a vendetta for homeless people ran free. He would have worn the suit to school under his clothes if he could, but fear of it being seen kept him from secretly wearing it. He would have to survive a few hours without his security blanket.

Upon entering the science building, Peter ran for the first free computer. Within seconds it was booted up and he was logging onto his online e-mail. The quicker he got a job, the sooner he could get off the streets and finally feel safe again.

However, Peter was given another bought of disappointment. He scrolled through his unread e-mails from the weekend. There were three. One was from his phone bill company, asking to renew his plan. The other was a reminder from the school that next semester registration was open. And the third was a coupon from Krispy Kreme, announcing their holiday glazed doughnuts.

Peter checked his spam, junk mail, and even hit the refresh button three times before giving up on his e-mail and logging out. Class was about to start anyways. He tried not to focus on the fact that none of the places he had applied to even e-mailed him. What was he to do now? Another day without a job meant another night on the streets.

He slipped into his chemistry lab just before his professor, taking a seat at his desk near the back of the class. He flopped his head onto his bag, listening as his professor walked in and immediately jumped into the lecture.

Peter's mind was anywhere but on the lecture, he was too busy fretting about where he would sleep for the night. Maybe the roof of the Marriott in mid Manhattan? It was a highly populated area so hopefully there wouldn't be a psychopath looking to burn homeless people lurking around. He needed to find actual shelter and quick, his constantly tingling spidey sense and his own worries wouldn't hardly let him sleep a wink out in the open. Something had to be done.

“Parker!” Peter jolted up as a dry eraser bounced off his drooped head. “I don't make these lectures to lull you to sleep. This stuff will be on the finals so wake up!” His professor scolded. Yup, something had to be done. He couldn't spend his class time asleep, as tempting as it was.

By the time his last class was over, Peter had developed a plan of sorts. He recalled a spot in town he had passed on a few patrols. A tent city, under a series of overlapping highway bridges. There was always a group of homeless individuals there, and Peter knew there was safety in numbers. He wasn't pleased that this was the solution he had come to, but it would have to do.

After leaving campus he headed to the closest supermarket in town, be-lining it for the outdoor section. He thumbed the wad of cash resting in his pocket, even spending a penny made him want to cry. But he had to fork out thirty bucks in the end for a small, yellow single man tent. It was the cheapest one there and left him with ten some odd dollars to his name.

He carried the tent, along with his back pack, across town to the dingy set up of temporary homes under the highways. Faded tarps and battered tents speckled the hard pavement. Shopping carts filled to the brim with trash, ripped clothes and random odds and ends were scattered all over the tent city.

Peter froze, just a street away from what he would soon come to call home. He watched as a few homeless guys gathered around a metal dented trash can, lighting a flame in it to fight the brisk breeze that was pulling in the night. Peter's arms gripped tighter around the box containing his new tent. Was this the right choice? Is this what he wanted? Once he was over there, he couldn't go back. They would automatically know he was homeless, like them. They would remember his face and if they ever saw him again, maybe years from now, they could testify to the truth that Peter Parker had once lived in a small yellow tent under a busy highway bridge, standing by trash fires to keep warm. Was he willing to let that become a part of him?

He was rooted in his spot for several minutes, warring over his next move. Sleep beckoned him toward the huddle of tents, promising him he could at least close his eyes when with the other homeless. But fear kept him grounded across the street, watching from a distance like any other outsider.

“The first step is usually the hardest.” Peter nearly cracked his neck as he spun to face a grungy man in tattered clothes who had walked up beside him. He had an unkept beard brushing past the collar of his jacket, and a mustache that curved over his smile. His eyes would have been a lovely pair of blue sapphires if it wasn't for blindness that had taken his right eye and turned it a hazy gray. “You're new to this...aren't you?” He pointed to the unopened box containing the tent.

“Y-yeah.” Peter nodded, turning to gaze at his shoes when he realized he had been staring at the strange man.

“The name's Josh...Josh Rhodes.” He held out his hand for Peter to shake.

“P-Peter.” He replied, finding a faint comfort in the small gesture.

“Do you need help setting up?” Josh began to cross the street, causing Peter to step after him.

“Sure.” He was grateful for the company.

 

* * *

  
Officer Vernon huffed as he flopped into the seat at his desk, brows furrowed and fingers laced together. He had spent way too long scouring the streets in search for the man who thought it would be fun to set fire to the newspaper stand. He had turned up empty handed. Their trail had run dry after he mysteriously vanished in the back alley, and no one had seen him since.

He pulled out the report on the case, ready to fill in whatever information he had on it when his office door slammed open abruptly. Detective Morris flew into the room like a whirlwind, laptop cradled in his arms.

“Vernon! This is the chase right!? Like that's you driving all up over the sidewalk?” He spun his computer around shoving the screen in the older officer's face. Vernon watched a security camera feed of the chase from that morning. Sure enough, his car drove up onto the sidewalk and swerved around a taxi.

“Yeah, did you come here to make fun of my driving?” He snorted.

“No!” Morris slid the laptop onto his desk, knocking the report on the floor. He scooted himself around the desk so they could both watch the security camera.

“When you called me this morning I immediately began to look into things. This bank across the street from where the chase was just so happened to have a camera pointing in the direction of the alley where the suspect disappeared. Watch this.” Morris pointed to the roof of the building beside the alley.

Vernon squinted, leaning in close as a figure emerged from around a vent box and peered down into the alley just before the police could surround it.

“That looks like Spider-Man!” Vernon declared, recognizing the pattern of the familiar spandex suit. “But what did he do with the man we were chasing?” He watched as the hero webbed the hooded man and yanked him onto the building.

“He let him go.” Morris answered, having seen the whole tape before.

“But why?” Vernon hardly had a chance to get his question out when the suspect in the video had his hood tossed off his face. He turned just enough for the mask covering his features to be made clear. It was,

“Deadpool.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So instead of facts, I have more of an experience to share. 
> 
> When I was twelve I traveled to San Francisco with my family. While there we did a lot of sightseeing and just driving around the city in general. We had gotten to this one part of town on this particular day, and it was crawling with homeless people all out in the streets. 
> 
> I was in the car on my DS so I wasn't paying much attention, but we had come up to an intersection. It was almost nightfall at the time and we were in the left turn lane. There was one other car with us, and we had pulled up into the middle of the intersection waiting for the cars in the other lane to pass so we could turn. 
> 
> All of a sudden I heard a loud knocking on my car door window. I look up and about have a mini heart attack. A scraggly old woman who looks somewhat like the "child napper" from Chitti Chitti Bang Bang was peeking in my window. I screamed. My dad rolled down the window and asked her what she wanted, assuming it was money and if we gave her some she would leave us alone. 
> 
> "Have you seen my son Josh Rhodes?" She cried, tears streaming down her face as she uttered his name. My dad, who happens to be named Josh, looked at her confused and said "No mam, I've never met him." 
> 
> "Find him! If you find my son tell him to come back to me!" She begged before hobbling off into oncoming traffic. She made it across the street just fine but continued to call for "Josh Rhodes" while wondering the sidewalk. That bizarre encounter has always stuck with me. I'm sure the poor woman was on something, but I can't help but wonder...is Josh Rhodes real, where is he and what happened to him? 
> 
> PS. I know this end note is getting lengthy, and I apologize, but I'd like to take a moment to remember Stan Lee. He has been a huge inspiration to me and the legacy he has left behind will never cease to motivate me to try harder and accomplish my own dreams. I wish I could do more to honor his passing. 
> 
> Rest in peace Stan the man, you will be missed. :') 
> 
> Excelsior! (ever upwards)


	5. Something Smells Fishy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josh Rhodes teaches Peter a trick to surviving while homeless, but Petey isn't too skilled at it. Yet he still tries his best, which only gets him dirty smelling clothes. 
> 
> Later, while patrolling, Spidey accidentally let's something slip and Wade and the boxes are quick to catch on. They know something is up for sure and they are determined to find out what.

Thanksgiving had come and gone, but Peter had celebrated none the less. He wouldn't have called it a feast, per say, it was really anything but. Josh Rhodes had appeared with a big black bag stuffed with canned food and stale bread like some sort of homeless Santa Clause. The rest of the dwellers in the Tent City had gathered around their burning trash can to share a single moment together. And for a split second, as Peter scooped lukewarm corn from a can, he could close his eyes and imagine himself seated around the family table with his Aunt and Uncle. The memory was such a stark contrast to the cold cement beneath him and the strangers huddled close beside him.

After that Peter had confronted Josh about where he acquired the bag of food, and that was how he found himself standing in a smelly back alley littered with garbage.

“Come on now, you won't find anything to eat just standing there.” Josh Rhodes bellowed, head peeking out of a dirtied green trash bin. Peter stood awkwardly on the other side of the alley, clutching tightly to the straps of his back pack. This whole “breakfast outing”, as Josh called it, upset him to no ends.

“When you said you knew a place to get free food...this was not what I was expecting.” Peter sighed, finding it hard to even be near a dumpster after what had happened just a few nights ago. Every time he thought about stepping near it his mind would call back that awful rotting flesh smell and he was all but gagging.

“Did you think I knew some secret restaurant that would set out a special table just for the two of us? Then serve us spaghetti and meatballs in a back alley? Life isn't a Disney movie kid.” He huffed, peeking over the brim of the massive can. He held up a large black trash bag and waved it over his head victoriously.

“I'll share with you this time, but you're finding lunch.” Josh crawled out of the can, setting the black bag on a stack of dented boxes. He clawed at the knot keeping it closed until it ripped open and revealed a pile of stale bread loaves, muffins and bagels.

“How long has that been in there?” Peter grumbled, stepping closer to inspect the baked goods.

“About three hours. They toss out the old stuff every morning and replace it with fresh junk.” Josh shrugged, stuffing a smushed muffin in his mouth. Peter stared at the bag before carefully selecting a decent looking bagel. He took a deep breath, he was doing this...he was really about to eat old food from the dumpster. His stomach gave a loud approving growl and he bit into the bagel. It was bland, dry and stale but it was better than nothing.

Quickly he swallowed the rest of the “treat” down before the card board like taste could make him gag. Peter shivered, was he no better than a common trash panda? Digging through garbage and scraps for his next meal. Josh Rhodes, however, seemed in his element. He sorted through the bread, stuffing a few uncrushed bagels into his coat pockets and cramming a slice of bread in his mouth.

“Here, this one looks good to take.” He handed a bun to Peter.

“Thanks Mr. Rhodes...” Peter sighed out, reluctantly taking the offered food. He slipped it into his own coat pocket for later.

“Just call me Josh, kid, I thought I told you that already.” He huffed, chucking the half empty bag back into the dumpster.

“S-sorry, Josh.” Peter followed the older man as they ventured deeper into the back alley. A sudden sharp breeze skirted between the buildings, rustling loose debris and nipping at Petey's ears. He shivered, hugging his arms ever closer in an attempt to fight off the chill.

After setting up his tent a few nights back, Peter and Josh had joined a few other Tent City dwellers at the local fire barrel, warming their hands as the hours of night slowly passed. It had been grueling, standing in the midnight air shivering, but too cold to return to his tent to rest. Josh had informed him that shortly, the Tent City would be mostly empty at night. The other homeless people would eventually drift away to find their own corners of the city to stay out the winter, returning when things got warmer, like animals out of hibernation.

Some would stick around, the odd few stragglers who slept in the day where they could, and huddled around by the fires at night, but Josh explained that he would not be among them. He liked to call himself a migrator, hitchhiking his way around the country in a zig zag fashion.

“Best way to keep myself safe from the elements,” he had explained, “I go up North for the summer where I can keep my jacket and not worry about sun burn. Then I head down South for the Winter so I don't freeze to death.” He shrugged. Peter thought hard about what Mr. Rhodes had said, figuring he too needed to come up with a winter solution.

“Mr. Rhod..er...Josh,” Peter paused as they continued down the back alley. “I've been thinking about what you said earlier, about finding better shelter for winter.” Petey watched as another frigid gust of wind swayed the man's tangled beard. Josh scrunched his nose in disapproval and stooped down to grab a ripped up newspaper. He took off his weathered shoes and stuffed the news article inside.

“Well, you could always get yourself arrested.” Rhodes shrugged as he slipped his now paper lined shoes back on.

“W-what!?” Peter stammered.

“Yeah, a jail cell is a great place to wait out the winter, plus, free food. Just flash somebody on the streets and you could get a whole month out of the cold. Or stand in the middle of an intersection, cause a scene in the mall, wave sticks around and just appear threatening. Or even trespass. All these earn anywhere from a weekend to a month of jail time.”

“I-I could never do that!” Peter exclaimed, just thinking about it went against everything in his nature. Imagine, Spider-Man in jail. Committing a crime, no matter how petty, especially for his own personal gain, just seemed wrong. Plus, if he was locked up, so was the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man.

“You could, when you wake up one morning and you can't feel your fingers and your toes are black.” Josh shrugged, proceeding down the alley. “Or you could go to the shelters. Got to arrive super early, like...lunch time, if you even want a bed for the night though.” He added.

Again, this was not an ideal solution for Peter. He had school during the day and didn't get out of classes until late afternoon and by then, all the shelters would be full.  
“You'll figure out something. Just remember what I said about jail time, it's a great solution.” Josh waved Peter to a line of dumpsters, all filled with bags and bags of trash.

“Ok, your turn. These all belong to restaurants. It's getting cold up here and I'll be leaving soon so you've got to learn this before then.” Josh gestured for Peter to “dig in”. Peter let his back pack slide from his shoulders and rest against one of the cans. Mr. Rhodes was right, he had to get his hands dirty if he wanted to survive, no matter how off putting rummaging through garbage was.

Gathering his courage, and chucking pride and hygiene to the wind, Peter hauled himself into the middle dumpster. Immediately the sour smell of garbage circled around him and he concluded he had made a horrible mistake.

“No turning back, stick it out!” He encouraged himself quietly. He tucked the collar of his shirt over his nose and made a note not to breathe through his mouth. Then he began to shift the bags around, not entirely sure what he was even looking for. How did he know what was in them? What if he found something disgusting, or grabbed broken glass? As he imagined how this could all go horribly wrong, he hefted up an overstuff bag. Just as he lifted it, ready to chuck it to the other side of the bin, the thin black plastic stretched and ripped open. Peter shrieked as red juices and slabs of meet tumbled out, covering his jacket and jeans. He immediately flung the bag as far from himself as possible and leapt out of the dumpster sputtering and hacking.

Josh was having a good old time laughing and cackling as he leaned against the far wall.

“ ** _WHAT WAS THAT!?_** ” Peter felt short of breath, the stench of rotting meat covering his clothes and skin. He was positive he had just discovered the evidence of some horrifying murder, and was now covered in the remains of a hacked up victim.

“That dumpster belongs to a butcher shop.” Rhodes was wiping a stray tear from his eye, finding amusement in Peter's misfortune.

“You could have told me!” Peter panted, trying his best to shake off chunks of congealed meat and guts.

“You're more likely to learn from your own mistakes. In a few days I wont be here to warn you about other dumpsters. But now that this has happened you will definitely remember to check next time.” He reasoned.

“You sound like my Highschool Chemistry teacher.” Peter joked. He couldn't find it in himself to be mad, especially after Josh had been so kind in taking him “under his wing” so to speak.

“Alright, next dumpster.” Josh instructed, and Peter made a mental note to never dumpster dive behind a butcher shop.

 

* * *

 

 

The morning chilled breeze grew throughout the day, changing into a frigid gale, and sucking up whatever heat remained in the city. It was the coldest night of the season.

Deadpool sat on top of one of him and Spidey's meeting places, feet dangling over the edge towards the city down bellow. A puff of steam drifted through the air as he exhaled, patiently waiting.

{It's cold as _fuck_ out here!} Yellow chattered, he always had to be going on about something. Wade nodded his head in agreement. Winter was definitely right around the corner. Luckily for the mercenary, he had taken the time to line the inside of one of his spare suits for the colder weather. If he was going to be patrolling with Spidey, then he couldn't be dying of frost bite.

[Speaking of...where is the little fella?] White grumped. [We've been sitting up here waiting for like...ten minutes.]

{I'd sit up here for years on end just to wait for Spider-Man.} Yellow cooed affectionately. Wade agreed, there wasn't much he wouldn't do for his favorite hero. As the boxes conversed between themselves Wade silently watched the frost covered city bellow. He soon spied the webbed wonder swinging his way towards them. Deadpool waved.

“Spiiiiiidey!” He called, standing just before the hero landed on the roof beside him. “I was wondering when...” he paused as the frigid night air caught the faintest pungent scent of rotting meet.

{Another body!?} Yellow growled. And for a moment Wade almost fell for it.

[No. It doesn't smell burnt just...old.] White deduced. Wade lifted his mask, trying to find the source of the smell.

“Hey Deadpool. Ready to patrol?” Spider-Man asked, but was momentarily ignored. He folded his arms, watching as Deadpool began to walk the roof, mask half lifted. He held his arms close for warmth, the tight spandex of his suit not doing much to keep out the chilled night air.

Deadpool suddenly turned, walking back towards Spidey, stare transfixed on him.

“So patrol? Yes, no...?” Spidey wobbled his hands in the air as if weighing the two options for Wade. Yet again he got no response. He didn't even get the chance to be annoyed as Wade, without warning, stepped into his personal space. Peter could have moved back, could have pushed Wade away and laugh at his strange behavior, but he stood frozen in place.

The atmosphere was so void and cold, Peter could feel the heat radiating off of the mercenary as he leaned closer. It was pulling him in, making him shiver at the realization of how freezing his own body actually was. He wanted to run from the nipping wind, wrap his arms around Wade's middle and let his warmth swaddle him safely. The thought made Peter blush under his mask, but he scooted closer in spite of himself.

{It's Spidey!?} Yellow gasped. Now that they were close enough to the hero, Wade and the boxes could tell that the stench was coming from their favorite hero. It was strong, like he had taken a bath in a sea of hot garbage.

[This isn't right. He usually smells like freaking sunshine and coffee and laundry detergent and like a snack in general!] White panicked, clearly something about this was freaking him out.

“Chill out, we all have our off days. We always smell like shit.” Wade thought, mentally shrugging to himself.

[Yeah because we go off and live in the jungle for six months. Or we forget to shower and sit in our crusty old suit that's covered in our own guts and blood. But not Spidey! Something is wrong Wade...] White snapped back.

{Is Spidey ok?} Yellow's voice was small in his head, he sounded hurt. Wade pulled his mask down, taking a moment to actually look at the hero standing before him. His arms trembled as he hugged them close to his side.

{He looks smaller...} Yellow noted.

[He's lost weight. He was hungry...] White reminded them.

Wade met the gaze of those wide white eyes, staring back at him, waiting for the mercenary's next move. He could hear his teeth quietly chattering as he breathed in and out.

{He's cold.}

[He slept on the roof the other night.]

Wade couldn't take it anymore. His heart was twisting in his chest, pained by the constant worry for his beloved hero. What was going on with him? Quickly, before he could chicken out, Wade grabbed the smaller hero and pulled him flush against his chest. He tucked Spidey's head under his chin and close to his aching heart, as if pressing him closer could fill that gaping void. Slowly he rubbed small circles over Spidey's back until he no longer felt him trembling against him.

“W-wade?” The webbed wonder's voice choked out, merely a whisper as he breathed against the mercenary's chest. Even his breath was cold.

“You were shivering.” Wade responded. He wanted to sit down, pull the hero into his lap and embrace him even closer. He wanted to keep him safe from whatever horrible things had to be happening in his life. He wanted to make him warm, clean him up, fill his stomach and let him sleep on the softest bed New York had to offer.

{You don't think he's...}

[Homeless.]

That was it, Wade hated to admit how everything made sense now, but it was the most logical explanation. Still, he had to be sure.

{Let's ask him! Our poor baby!} Yellow sobbed, pained at the idea that their little hero was sleeping on the streets.

[We can't do that.] White huffed. [We don't even know if it's true...and it might not be.]

{We have to find out then! Let's follow him!} Yellow exclaimed.

[That's a horrible idea! If he discovers us following him he would never talk to us again. He'd hate us for sure. If there was really something going on and he wanted us to know about it, then he would tell us. Don't break his trust Wade. He's the only good thing in our life right now.] White warned him.

{What if he's in danger!? If we let him get hurt then he wont be in our life at all!} Yellow argued back.

[Spidey can handle himself. I bet the last thing he wants is for us to baby him.]

{But...he is our baby boy...} The boxes continued to bicker and feud in Wade's mind as he silently tried to process all this new information. He still held Spidey tightly in his grip, as if scared the night wind would whisk him away into the darkness.

“Wade...I'm alright. You can let me go now. I think I've gotten u-used to the cold.” Peter tried to stop his chattering teeth. It took everything in him to pull away from Wade and his welcoming warmth. He could have fallen asleep, head resting on the mercenary's pecs, listening to the steady thrum of his heart. The thought shot tingles of heat through his nerves and out to his toes and he suddenly had all the energy in the world. He weaseled his way out of Wade's grip before giving in to the pleasant idea.

For those few brief moments, there in Wade's arms, Peter had felt safe, cherished and cared for. It was like the embrace had really meant something to the mercenary, more than just a measly hug. It had called back memories of his Aunt May, and even his Uncle Bin. Of the way they would hold him tightly as a child whenever he was upset and in need of comfort.

“It was comforting.” Peter thought, and he immediately missed those strong biceps around him already. Lately, something about Wade seemed to draw him in, and Peter was tempted to let it. But that wouldn't be fair to the mercenary. Peter felt there were too many problems that came with him, it would be selfish of himself to let Wade try and fix them all. It wasn't Wade's problem, it was Peter's. So Petey kept himself distant, refusing to let the mercenary reel him in...despite how badly he wanted him to.

“You ready to patrol? Or were you wanting to sit up here and cuddle all night?” Spidey joked.

“Is that an option?” Wade smiled, he could dream couldn't he?

“Not tonight.” Peter chuckled and took a running leap off the roof. “I'll take a rain check on that!” He called back, voice echoing out over the street. Wade couldn't fight the butterfly feeling tickling his insides, was Petey actually flirting back?

{What? He was flirting with us? I missed it! I was too busy focusing on the fact that our little Spidey baby **_COULD BE HOMELESS!_** } He shrieked, clearly irritated.

[We don't know that. There is no need to get worked up over nothing.] White was oddly calm about this. Wade tried, and failed to ignore them as he hurried across the roofs after Spider-Man.

{Well then we should follow him later tonight and find out!}Yellow wasn't ready to give up on that idea. For most of the night Yellow begged and pleaded with White, trying to convince him that the best possible solution was to stalk their favorite hero.

White wasn't easily convinced. He argued to no end, stating that their trust with the webbed wonder would be destroyed if they followed him.

[We will **_NEVER_** be in a relationship with him if we do that.] That was White's trump card, it shut Yellow up for at least half an hour. Wade wasn't complaining when the boxes finally went quiet, it allowed him the chance to focus on their patrolling. They had just helped a lost child who had gotten separated from her parents in the big city foot traffic. Now they were headed towards a dark construction sight where Spidey had picked up the sound of a scuffle.

“Hurry Wade!” Spidey called back to him as he leapt over the make shift fence left up to keep civilians out of the sight. The two hero's quickly found the source of the noise.

Two young teens in thick winter jackets were hounding on an older man who was crumpled to the ground in the fetal position. It was something Spider-Man and Deadpool had seen at least a dozen times during patrols.

Spidey was quick to shoot a web onto the back of one of the delinquents, yanking him into a pile of spare wood planks. Wade was on the other teen, shooting him mercilessly with a paint ball gun he had brought along.

“My North Face Coat!” The teen shrieked at the blobs of red paint staining his new coat. “You asshole! Do you know how much this is?” He barked. Wade frowned, giving the teen a well deserved paint pellet to the face. That seemed to shut him up.

“Wade, easy.” Spidey called from where he was webbing up the other teen. The mercenary huffed bitterly, pulling a pair of cuffs from his belt that he definitely did not steal from a cop, and cuffing up the teen.

Wade watched as Spidey hurried over to the grungy looking homeless man who was struggling to his feet.

“Oh! Mr. Rho—uh **_sir_**! Are you alright?” Spider-Man offered a hand to the man. Deadpool paused, was that a slip up?

“W-what?” The older man asked, looking about wildly to make sure his attackers were subdued.

“I asked if you are ok sir?” Spidey repeated himself.

{He knows him...you heard him right? He almost said his name.} Yellow began, slowly growing louder and louder. {He knows the homeless man!}

[Wade...] White's voice shook in Wade's mind, like a leaf in the wind [Follow him.] That was it, that was all it took to convince White that Yellow, believe it or not, was right. Wade felt his stomach flip and gulped back his worries. If Spider-Man, his dear baby boy, really was homeless, then Wade knew there was no way he could sit idly by. Just the thought alone made him want to throw his wallet at the hero and drag him to the store.

“I'll...I'll be okay. T-thank you Spider-Man and...whoever you are.” The raggedy man finally made it to his feet and began to hobble off into the night. Spidey watched as the man limped away, clearly hurt from the whole affair.

“Uh, it's getting late Wade, I think...I'm going to call it a night.” He said, his eyes still trailing the man until he disappeared around a corner and out of sight.

{He wants to make sure his homeless friend is ok...} Yellow decided. He was probably right.

[This is it. Follow him, we have to know.] White agreed. Wade was quiet, waving to Spider-Man as he webbed away into the night.

“But...if I follow him I'll probably see his secret identity. If he found out...” The words died before he could finish saying them. He knew it didn't matter anymore. He needed to know, had to find out, had to keep his Spider safe...whatever the costs.

“Ok.” He nodded. “Let's go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random tid bit:
> 
> Although it is perfectly legal to dumpster dive in the US. There are some states that do their best to make it as hard as possible. In places like New York, it is illegal to dumpster dive on private property, so they decided that a dumpster qualifies as "private property"...which makes sense. Kinda. 
> 
> In big cities like New York, we end up throwing out roughly $165 billion worth of food each year. A lot of people take advantage of this discarded treasure, while others are deterred by the possibility of being given a $200 ticket or even being arrested by the police. 
> 
> Luckily, a man by the name of Rob Greenfield (maybe you've heard of him? He's an environmental activist) started a campaign in 2014 called the "Food Waste Fiasco". His goal is to get food stores to donate the groceries they would otherwise throw away. As a part of this campaign, he offered to pay for any ticket or bail anyone would receive while dumpster diving for food. All they had to do was send the bill to Rob. (And unfortunately he has received a few)
> 
> Anyways, 
> 
> That was my little tidbit :) Next chapter will be interesting, I'm looking forward to writing it. AND FOR THESE BOYS TO FINALLY KISS OR GET IT ON OR SOMETHING. (I say that like I'm not the one in control of this story -_- )


	6. Taking This One to the Grave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite whatever distractions the night throws at Wade, he manages to follow Spidey, and he isn't too pleased about what he finds. The boxes agree that something must be done about it.

“This is just great.” Wade hissed. His plan to follow Spider-Man had been going perfectly...at first. He had kept a good distance for several blocks, until he was rudely interrupted. He had only been following his favorite hero for about ten minutes before he noticed a shadow stalking along the roof across the street.

He had originally chosen to pay it no mind, after all people did hang out on top of buildings sometimes. It wasn't until he saw the glint of moonlight reflecting off a sniper scope that he knew trouble was brewing.

{Follow Spidey!} Yellow urged him on when he all at once stopped, squinting at the figure on the building across the block.

[Spider-Man wouldn't want us to let people get hurt. He's going to shoot someone.] White reminded him. [We can follow him tomorrow night.]

Wade knew he was doing his best to be better, to be more like a hero for Spidey, but he wasn't that good...not yet. He could ignore it just this once, he had more pressing matters to attend to. He looked off at Spidey who was slowly getting further away, but still in sight.

[At least find out what their target is. What if it's a kid?] White knew exactly what to say to get Wade feeling like crap. He heaved a heavy sigh and cursed under his breath as he changed directions and headed towards the roof of the other building instead.

Hoping to make things quick so he could still trail Spidey, Wade made his way to the other building in a flash. Carefully he scaled up the drain pipe like a circus monkey, then crouched on the roof. He could see the man, hunched over the parapet with a sniper rifle resting on it. He muttered to himself, as if battling with voices in his own head.

Wade silently creeped closer, as quiet as the flap of a butterfly's wings. At this distance he could just make out what the man was mumbling under his breath.  
“Should I dart him? He could fall from that height and really get hurt though.”

[Who?] White questioned. Wade shrugged, he needed to find out who this man was tracking so he could get it over with and hurry back to tailing his own person of interest.

As the mercenary crept ever closer, he was able to finally get a glimpse in the direction the man's gun was facing. At first there were no clues as to what he was watching, then suddenly across the roof tops a figure leapt from the sky line and zipped over the streets.

{SPIDER-MAN] Both White and Yellow exclaimed in unison. Wade's teeth gritted together and he immediately ripped his own gun from his belt. Without giving any thought to it he aimed for the back of the man's head and fired.

“AAAAGH!” The man shrieked as a spray of blue paint splattered through his hair and across his clothes. He immediately lifted a hand to where the pellet had made contact and spun about wildly.

“You shot me!?” He exclaimed, eyes widening at the sight of the angry anti-hero behind him.

“Shoot, wrong gun.” Wade cursed, realizing he had gone patrolling with paint ball guns that day instead of his actual weapons. The startled man looked at his fingers, spying the smears of blue paint and quickly realized his brains were, in fact, not seeping out the back of his head.

“Look, Deadpool, we need to talk.” He ground out bitterly, grip tightening on the fire arm at his belt.

“Yeah, we do need to talk. Care to explain why you've got a gun pointed at the friendliest hero this world has ever seen?” Wade dropped his paint ball gun and unsheathed Bae and Arthur instead. Their lethal blades glistened in the moonlight, thirsty for blood.

“I'm actually a S.H...” The man was cut off as Wade all at once launched himself towards him, slicing through the air at lightning fast speeds.

“Actually we don't need to talk, I don't want to hear your excuses.” Deadpool spat, the edge of his katana just nicking the man's stealth jacket. Gun shots echoed through the night as Wade and the strange sniper battled it out on the roof. The sniper could hold his own, but unlike Wade he didn't seem to have an endless amount of rage fueled energy coursing through him and he soon tired out.

In a flurry of attacks Deadpool rushed at the sniper, managing to leave a nasty mark on the sniper's calf. He yelped in pain, and stumbled to the ground, his gun slipping from his grip. Wade marched over to him, quiet and bitter. He roughly stomped his boot onto the man's back, keeping him pinned down. The sniper coughed and writhed, trying to squirm his way free, but he had been successfully subdued. Wade didn't utter a word as he lifted his sword, ready to bring it down on the man's neck.  
[No one messes with Spidey.] White hissed.

“Please, It's not what it looks like. I wasn't...wasn't trying to hurt him!” He pleaded, panting as pressure was placed on his lungs.

[That's what they all say. A killer will do anything to get out of facing consequences. Get rid of him. He was going to shoot our Spider-Man!] White growled in his head, urging the mercenary further into blood lust.

“Wade!?” The sound of his own name stopped the swing of his sword mid air, inches from the man's neck. Wade turned enough to see Spidey crouching on the parapet, web shooter aimed...at him. They silently stared at each other for a moment, neither of them moving until Wade finally felt his heart rate cool and slowly lowered his sword.

{Spidey doesn't want us to kill.} Yellow reminded him, all be it a bit too late. With a heavy sigh Deadpool sheathed his weapon and stepped off the man pinned beneath his foot.

“I-I heard gun shots then your voice and I came over as quickly as I could and...and...you were going to kill him!” He sounded hurt, like the realization that Wade would secretly kill behind his back wounded him to his very core.

“I'm sorry Spidey it's...it's not what it looks like! He was trying to snipe you and I...I” he gestured to the sniper rifle still propped over the edge, aiming out over the city. “I snapped.” Spider-Man made no comment and carefully climbed off the wall. He approached the man who was starting to pick himself up, clutching his wounded abdomen.

“I wasn't trying to kill Spider-Man!” He spat bitterly, casting a glare at the mercenary who growled in response. Spidey strategically positioned himself between the two, back facing Deadpool.

“What's with the sniper rifle then?” Spidey questioned, pointing at the fire arm still propped on the edge of the roof.

“It has tranquilizer darts in it, not bullets.” He began to explain.

“You were going to kidnap him instead! You sick monster!” Wade roared, taking long strides towards the man, he instinctively reached up to unsheathe Arthur again but Spidey quickly turned to face him.

“Wade.” His voice was calm, like the gentle push of a spring breeze. He pressed both his hands against the mercenaries pecs, drawing all of Wade's attention onto him. “It's ok. You stopped him, nothing is going to happen to me. You can calm down now. Remember, heroes don't kill.” He didn't raise his voice, didn't get exasperated or ill. Spidey simply patted Wade's shoulder, now wasn't the time to be arguing over something that almost happened.

“I wasn't going to kidnap him! Calm down you big red joke!” The man snorted. Spidey whipped his head around, eyeing the sniper skeptically.

“I'd start explaining if I was you, otherwise this “big joke” here will make a “big mess” out of you...and I just might let him.” It was a bluff, always a bluff, but Peter half liked the idea that Wade was willing to go so far to protect him.

“I'm with S.H.I.E.L.D!” The man spat out and tugged a card out of his pocket. “Agent Morris. I also work with the NYPD as a detective. I've been trying to crack this case. Charred bodies have been popping up around town in odd places and no one knows who is doing it.”

“We've run across one before...but we haven't been able to figure it out either.” Spider-Man shuddered, recalling the horrific smell that lingered in his mind.

“Thought as much. No offense but heroes don't exactly make great detectives.” Morris scoffed.

“Hey! I would be a kick ass detective!” Deadpool suddenly cut in. “As a matter of fact...”

“But what does that have to do with you trying to snipe me? I'm not connecting the dots here.” Spidey continued to question Morris.

“You were caught on security footage aiding Wade Wilson escape from the scene of an arson attack...that he started! I have reason to believe that Deadpool is part of a gang called the Pyroclan. He's been using you for a fool Spider-Man.” Morris pointed an accusing finger at the mercenary.

“Inconceivable!” Wade gasped comically.

“What?” Spidey laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Is this real? The name Pyroclan just sounds too cliché and...fake. Also Wade set the stand on fire simply because he didn't like the papers they were selling and he doesn't know how to express that non violently. As I'm sure you know by now.” He noted the way Morris held his bruised rib. “Still, I don't see how any of this ties into the burned bodies...do you think this gang is out there burning the homeless?”

“Yeah, I do. As part of their initiation.” Morris nodded.

“Well I don't know what to tell you, neither me nor Deadpool have anything to do with some poorly named gang.” Spidey turned, guiding Deadpool to the edge of the building, clearly done with the conversation.

“I actually figured as much, but I had to check. Leave no stone unturned as they say. I was actually hoping you'd lend me an eye.” He called after them. “The more people we have on this, the quicker it will be solved.”

Peter stopped, then turned again to face Morris.

“And how should I contact you if we come across anything?” Spidey asked but Morris was already handing him a business card.

“My work number is on there, give me a call if you find anything out.”

“Thanks. You should head over to Hell's Kitchen and see if you can find Daredevil. He has actually run across several burned bodies in the past month. Maybe he's figured something out by now.” Peter suggested before turning and chasing after Wade who was already descending the fire escape. He tucked Morris' number securely into his suit and webbed down to meet Deadpool in the alley way.

{We've screwed up now.} Yellow moaned in the back of Wade's mind, {no way will he forgive us for almost be-heading a Shield agent.}

[…]

“This was so stupid!” Wade hissed, grabbing his head and gripping at his mask like he would if he had any hair. He stopped his inner conversation when Spidey skilfully landed on the ground in front of him.

“Wade...” he paused before he had ever really started, and took a step closer to the mercenary and Deadpool braced for the worst. He could hear Yellow sobbing in the back of his mind. This was a big mistake, he had crossed a line, a big line. But the words he expected to hear never came. Instead a gentle hand was placed on his shoulder and in a quite whisper Spidey said,

“Thank you, for looking out for me.”

Deapool blinked and had to do a double take, Yellow bit back his whaling. He couldn't believe what Spidey had just said. Immediately he began to pay close attention, watching for any clue that he could that would allude to what the hero was thinking.

Peter let his hand rest on Wade's shoulder, trying his hardest not to just completely spill his guts to the man in front of him. It was wrong to praise Wade for nearly killing the Mr. Morris, but he couldn't help the feeling that swelled inside him to know that Deadpool would do something so drastic just to protect him. His actions were like a warm hug around his aching heart, and this wasn't the first time he had felt this way. It wasn't the first time Peter thought that maybe...just maybe he could tell Wade. Let him be the one to hold him close and shew his worries away, but that was selfish...that was degrading, and that meant giving up his secret identity. He gulped back the confession that tried to weasel it's way out.

“Just...you can't kill people Wade. Even if they are going after me. Subdue them and let the law decide what happens to them. I don't want you to live with a guilt like that. It's not your responsibility to bear.” That's right, he wasn't Wade's responsibility either.

Deadpool listened, but his keen attention to detail didn't miss the small gulp as Spidey held back words. He didn't miss the way his eyes stared into his soul as if there was so much he wanted to say but just...couldn't, and was hoping that by some miracle Wade would just read his thoughts. He also didn't miss the way Spidey's fingers gripped down on Wade's shoulder, as if forcing himself in place, not to move an inch closer, not to give in to whatever urges he was fealing.

{He's struggling.}

[With what?]

{Don't know, he doesn't tell us things. He never tells us. He bottles it up.}

[That's why we're going to follow him.] White reminded Wade and Yellow. Yes, that was the plan before they had been so rudely interrupted, and if he was careful, he might could still pull it off.

{No more side tracks.}

“You're right.” Wade agreed, aloud. Spidey nodded, assuming that had been addressed to him.

“I'm glad you understand. We can talk more about it later if there are still some things you don't understand about that. Don't be afraid to talk to me about it.” He smiled, trying not to just shrivel up at how hypocritical his own statement was. He needed to get some sleep, clear his mind and lock down his anxiety's. He could do this alone.

“Goodnight Spider-Man.” Wade patted his head playfully. “Catch you on the flip side.” He made a point to take a running start and backflip over the small wall dividing the back alley from the neighboring street. He ran around the corner and stopped almost immediately when he heard Spidey web away.

[Take two.] White snorted. This time Wade was more cautious when he tailed the hero. He stuck to the shadows in the streets and avoided the rooftops, hoping this way he would find less distractions. It seemed to work until he saw Spidey flip onto the roof of an abandoned building with a broken fire escape. No way any civilians could get up there. They were in a beat up side of town, it was a neighborhood Wade had visited often back when he killed for hire.

{Hurry, we've lost sight of him, get up high!} Yellow demanded. Wade quickly spied a telephone poll and shimmied up it like a hungry bear hunting down some sweet sweet honey. From the top he was just high enough to jump to the top half of the broken fire escape. It took everything in him to be stealthy enough that not even Spider-Man would know he was there, but he hadn't been a successful mercenary for nothing. He grabbed the ladder as silently as humanly possible, and climbed up until he could just barely peak over the edge of the building.

He squinted as he eyed Spider-Man approaching a backpack that had been webbed against a beet up broken vent box. He shuffled through it and pulled out a worn out hoodie that Wade could practically smell from where he hid.

[Do some laundry kid.] White grumped.

{Is he about to change!? Right here...right now!?} Yellow was so excited his voice raised in pitch.

“We'll see his face...” Wade thought, starting to regret deciding to follow. “I should go, this...this isn't, I shouldn't be doing this.” He lowered himself just a smidge, no longer able to see the webbed wonder.

{No! What do you mean!? It's been a dream of ours to see Spidey's face!} Yellow begged, pleading for Wade to just give in.

“I know how seriously he takes his secret identity. If he hasn't told me yet than he doesn't want me to know. I already upset him tonight with that S.H.I.E.L.D agent, but I don't think he would ever forgive me if he found out I did this.” Wade began to panic, taking a slow step down the ladder.

[Stop!] White barked bitterly, Wade froze. [Something is obviously wrong, something is upsetting him, he's struggling through something. If he really is homeless right now, that means he has nobody to turn to. Why would anybody let someone as precious as Spidey sleep out in the streets of New York? We don't have anyone...what if he doesn't have anyone either? He could be going through some awful shit right now and there's no one for him to lean on. Do you really want that for him? I know breaking his trust like this makes us a total ass...but not helping...I think...I think that's worse somehow. We don't have to tell him that we saw his secret identity.]

{Don't leave him alone in the cold...we can keep it a secret from him.} Yellow added. Wade bit his bottom lip. They were right, and he hated how this seemed to be a new pattern with them, agreeing with each other for the sake of convincing him. Despite that, he knew there was no way he could live with himself if Spidey was in trouble and he did nothing to help.

“Thanks for looking out for me.” Spidey had said that only minutes ago. Deadpool pushed back his second guessing and climbed back up the ladder. That's what he would do, look out for Spidey. If it was inevitable for him to break the hero's trust, then the least he could do is keep him safe.

He peeked back over the edge just in time to see Spidey grab the bottom of his mask and yank it off in one quick motion. Wade's breath came in fast and sharp, he had the perfect view of his hero's face. His eyes widened and he couldn't peel his stare away from that new but all too familiar face.

The moon light and vibrant neons sparkled in Spidey's deep brown doe eyes. They watered in the frigid night air and gave him an heir of sorrow about him. Despite being unwashed and a bit oily, his chocolate curls still managed to bounce in the breeze and tickle his ears, which were pink tipped in the cold. Dark rings set under his eyes, contrasting with the pinkness in his downturned lips.

This was his Spider-Man.

{He's so...}

“Beautiful.” Wade's voice was a hushed whisper as he stared in awe, memorizing everything he could about Spidey's new features.

[Looks tired.] White noted just as Spidey stiffed a yawn and rubbed at one of his sleep deprived eyes.

“I could just eat him up!” Wade squealed in his head.

{YES! Let's eat this cutie pie out!} Yellow chattered in excitement.

“Not what I said but that works too.”

[And to think, you almost ran away.] White was clearly fishing for praise, having been the one to convince Wade to stay. He earned no such thing.

Their sweet moment was cut short as Spider-Man pulled his sweatshirt and pants on over his suit, crammed his mask into the bag and hurried to the other side of the roof where he descended down into the streets.

Deadpool was quick to trail him through the dark alley ways and streets until they neared a series of overpasses. Wade could easily see a cluster of different colored tents huddled in a tight circle under one of the bridges. His heart immediately sunk in his chest. He could feel hope slipping away. It seemed like their heart crushing theory on Spidey was turning out to be right on the money.

{It's that homeless guy that got mugged earlier!} Yellow pointed out as a grungy man limped into sight from another street, he was clearly headed to the tent city as well. Spidey had caught sight of the man too, and was waving his arms wildly.

“Josh!” He called, catching the man's attention.

{Yup,} Yellow sighed, {All our theories have been right.}

[Now, if only we had a name to go with the face.] White huffed. The homeless man turned and paused, waiting for Spidey to approach him. Wade slunk in the shadows of a nearby dumpster, listening carefully.

“Hey Peter. Keeping warm this evening?” Josh asked.

{PETER!} Yellow screamed.

[Peter huh? Suits him.] White tested the name.

“...Peter.” The name rolled off Wade's tongue like a sweet melody. He let his head rest against the cold metal of the trash bin, keeping his eyes lingering on the two across the street from him. They walked together to the tent city and it took everything in Wade not to leap up and rush to Peter's rescue immediately.

[We have to play our cards right if we want to be able to help.] White contemplated, [Our investigating doesn't end here.]

{We'll find a way to get Petey Pie out of the cold streets and into our warm arms without ruining our little secret.}

Wade agreed. He knew drastic steps had to be taken, and it tore him apart inside knowing there was nothing he could do at this exact second to rescue his Spidey, his baby boy...his,

"Peter." He watched the two homeless New Yorkers until their voices were too far off to be heard, still he lingered in the shadows.

Frustration boiled through him and he threw his fist bitterly into the brick wall beside him, successfully managing to bust his knuckles. Yet, the pain did nothing to dull the sting of his heart as he watched the person he cared absolutely most about forced to shiver in the frosty night air and sleep in a tent. What made things even worse was his complete confusion on how to handle the situation. He felt hopeless, like a caged animal forced to watch it's child taken from it, unable to help in any way.

“I have to do something.” He muttered before slipping back off into the night, unable to watch anymore, his heart couldn't take it.

Although unaware he had been followed, Peter felt a sneaking sensation alert his spider senses. He payed it no mind, accepting the fact that now that he was homeless, his sixth sense would be going bonkers 24/7. He pushed the tingling feeling to the back of his mind and continued his talk with Josh Rhodes.

“You're limping, are you ok?” Peter asked, concerned after having seen Josh suffer a few rough blows only moments ago. The older man heaved a sigh as they reached the burning trash barrel.

“Yeah, I'll be alright. Just bruised probably.” He looked into the fire thoughtfully before turning to Peter.

“Pete, I'm leaving tomorrow. Will you be alright?” Concern filled his eyes as he studied the tired college student. Peter paused, would he be okay? Even if he didn't find a place to hole himself up during the winter, it wasn't like he could just leave and go with Josh, or ask him to stay and help him out.

“I'll...I'll be ok. I've got something lined up.” He fibbed, trying not to feel like complete trash for being dishonest.

“Good.” Josh nodded. “It won't be long before the tent city is empty. Look around, most everyone is gone already. I'm not sure where they all went, but there wont be anyone out here in the cold for much longer.” He nodded to the empty spots where tents had been previously set up. There were still tints in the area, but they appeared empty and forgotten, as if whoever had lived in them had just up and disappeared. It was odd, and Peter hoped that they had found better shelter and not met an agonizing fate in a back alley somewhere.

The only other resident of the tent city that Peter saw was an old woman who had made it her job to tend to the fire barrel. Peter figured that whenever she left, taking his only source of heat with her, that then he would really be in trouble.

The three unfortunate individuals stood around the barrel all night, the woman occasionally tossing in a pile of trash to keep the flame going. Peter wasn't sure at what point he had sat down and fallen asleep on the pavement, but he awoke the the morning sun peaking through the buildings and under the bridge. There was a soar kink in his side from having laid on the hard ground all night, and his fingers were practically frozen stiff. With a groan he pushed himself to his feet and held himself close to the still burning barrel. He quickly took in the surroundings of the tent city. Josh was gone, and Peter hoped deep down that maybe he would see him one more time before he left.

“Unless he's already gone.” He thought, the idea brought back the same alone feeling that washed over him his first night on the streets. Even though he had managed to make a friend who understood what he was going through, he wasn't able to keep him. He was alone...

Except, he wasn't.

“I really do have rotten luck.” He grumbled, feeling hopelessness beginning to bubble up inside him. In an attempt to keep his mind off his misfortunes, Peter rushed to campus hours before his first class. He snuck his way into the gym and was relieved to find the locker rooms empty.

Except, they weren't.

He let the look warm water of the gym shower pelt his face and race down his back. He carefully worked a glob of hand soap into his greasy hair. How long had it been since he had take a real shower? He couldn't recall and that realization alone horrified him. Everyday there was always something new that he discovered he had taken for granted, and his busted up cold running water in his old apartment was now one of them.

His rotten smelling clothes and super suit were scrubbed with hand soap as well. Thanks to the echo friendly awareness at the campus, he was able to utilize the hand drying stations on his soaked clothes. They were at least better than nothing.

He spent the rest of the morning in damp pants and shirt, hoping he wouldn't catch a cold. He checked his e-mail, no luck with jobs. Classes flew by and would soon be over for the year. Sadly, even the stress of finals wasn't enough to keep his mind off his shelter predicament. In fact, it was the only thing he thought about, even as the morning turned to noon, noon to evening and he was webbing his way to meet Wade on their rooftop.

Although Deadpool was usually a great distraction from his sad reality of homelessness, not even the merc with a mouth could keep his worries away. He hardly quipped when fighting the “no gooders” they came across during that night's patrol. He didn't notice the excessive amount of “Baby Boy's” Wade cued at him, or the way the mercenary stared at him earnestly.

“Where should I go? What should I do? Who can I call? Will anyone even want to help me? Should I tell someone? Should I go someplace warmer?” He asked himself all night. It wasn't until a plastic cup with a silly straw was shoved in his face that he finally blinked back to reality and momentarily forgot the deep trouble he was in.

“Wh-what is this?” He stammered, looking at Deadpool with pure confusion. The mercenary was sipping on a similar looking drink of his own, still holding the other out to Peter.

“A smoothie, duh. What does it look like?” He snorted as if it had been so obvious.

“But...why?” Peter questioned, he was sitting on the edge of their roof again, they had finished patrolling an hour ago, but try as he might, Spidey couldn't seem to recall the criminals they had captured or the conversation Wade had no doubt been having by himself.

“You said you were thirsty like...ten minutes ago. Did you not see me leave? Are you okay Spidey?” Wade's look of concern returned and his shoulder's slumped, as if defeated.

“Oh, I did?” Peter blinked at him, had he really asked for a drink?

“Yes, just take it, it's not drugged or anything.” Wade scoffed as Peter finally took the cup from his hand.

{Except that it is.} Yellow laughed.

[I can't believe you were able to actually convince him that he had asked for it. He must really be in his own thoughts.] White sighed.

“Of course he is, he's homeless and probably has a higher stress level than a chicken in a fox house.” Wade commented.

{A chicken in a...wait what?}

“You saw him this morning, it was so cold he slept by a trash barrel for heat. He used hand soap to wash his clothes!” Wade's heart sunk just thinking about it. Why couldn't he just snake his arms around Peter's hips, pull him close and carry him off to the most luxury suite money could buy? It would be so easy.

[Because he would know, he would hate us...he would hate you. He would probably run away or reject our help and never talk to us again. We came up with a plan remember? Stick with the plan!] White urged him.

“I know but...” Wade paused as Peter took a hearty yawn, half of his smoothie already gone.

{Maybe we put too much in there? Think he'll be able to make it back in time?} Yellow panicked. They watched as Spidey slowly sucked on the silly straw. The eyes of his mask were narrowing, his head drooping like he was fighting off sleep.

Wade placed a hand on his shoulder, startling the poor hero. Peter let out a surprised yelp, dropping his drink. It fell nine storied and burst open, splattering across the ground rather gruesomely.

“It's late, let's call it a night.” Wade suggested.

{Yes, the quicker Petey Pie goes night night, the sooner we can help.} Luckily Peter was beginning to feel the effects of Deadpool's surprise smoothie ingredient and calling it a night sounded appealing.

“Yeah, I should head home.” Peter stiffed a yawn, standing to leave. He didn't bother with a goodbye, too tired and out of it to even think straight.

[That made me sad, do you think he really considers that tent his home? Or was he just too tired to correct himself?]

“I'd rather not think about it.” Wade growled, keeping a close tail on Spidey.

{What are we going to do about the other homeless people in the tent city?} Yellow asked.

[It'll take a lot to wake Peter after what we gave him, we'll deal with them if we have to.] White assured him.

Except...there weren't any.

Peter stopped just outside the tent city, realizing he had grabbed his backpack and completely forgotten to change. However, it didn't seem to matter. The tent city was a complete ghost town. Josh was gone, the few remaining tents had been taken down, and even the trash barrel was unlit, offering no warmth against the cold night air. Everyone had gone.

Perhaps, if he wasn't so completely exhausted, Peter would have thought twice about sleeping in the tent, alone under the bridge without any other people to keep a lookout. Instead, he heaved a sorrowful sigh and climbed into his cold, cramped tent, collapsing almost instantly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, school is finally over. Finals was complete chaos, I didn't have any spare time to do anything and I'm so sorry this chapter was so long getting to you guys. I hope it doesn't feel too rushed, I literally just finished typing it :')
> 
> Sorry I won't be adding a tid-bit at the end of this chapter, just because I am literally too exhausted to think of what I would put, and I don't want you guys to have to wait any longer. Haha, sorry. But I will say this...back when I was on a swim team, we used to pump wads of foam hand soap into our hands while we were in the showers. Then we would run around like idiots and clapping our hands together in each others faces...foam soap was everywhere. Sorry that was random but Peter in the gym shower reminded me of that. 
> 
> Also, don't worry, we have not seen the last of Josh Rhodes :) (to those of you who actually like the OC's )


	7. The Fear of Falling Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade tries his best to "discretely" help Spidey out of homelessness, but he isn't so great at it. In fact, he is down right terrible. Unable to truly help Spidey for fear of losing him, Wade tries round about ways to give poor Peter some cash. However, reality soon comes to bite him in the butt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, hope you had a merry Christmas or whatever Holiday you may celebrate :) And a Happy New Years as well. Sorry for the wait on this chapter, but hopefully it will have been worth it. See if you can catch the few movie and song references I've placed in this chapter. If enough people ask maybe I'll give it away :P

Peter licked his lips, his mind taunting him with the image of pancakes piled high with syrup, butter, whipped cream and fruit. His stomach gave an approving rumble. It was a dream, this much he knew, and he clung to it like a life line. Just a minute longer, pretending. A minute more to wish back upon those warm mornings back in Queens when he would wake to whatever breakfast Aunt May had cooked up for him. Just one more minute before he was willing to be disappointed. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, trying to keep the dream as real as possible.

He could practically smell the delicate golden brown cakes that flitted in his dreams, and his mouth watered. But he had to get up, had to face the harsh cruel day that awaited him. He had to get a job, make money and then maybe one day he could hope of having pancakes again.

Reluctantly he pushed himself up from his sleeping bag and the warm blankets wrapped snuggly around him. Peter sat there, eyes still closed, realizing in his head that he in fact, did not own a sleeping bag. His eyes shot open in a flash and panic quickly set in. He was in someone else's tent, sleeping in someone else's blankets. He quickly scrambled out of the tent, practically falling on his face as he burst out into the cold morning. His breathes were heavy, unable to recall how he wound up in this situation.

“I'm still...but this is...” he paused, realizing he was under the same bridge, in the same tent city, and from the outside that definitely looked like his tent. There was no one around to question, to explain what was going on. He stood, trembling for a few moments until the cold urged him back into the warmth of his now decked out tent. He crawled back inside, zipped the door and sat bewildered on the plush sleeping bag, pillow and blankets that had not been there before.

In the corner of his tent was a small battery run heater that whirred and rotated, filling the small space with radiating heat. Beside it was a large box wrapped like a Christmas present in plaid red and black paper, a glittery bow on top. A tag hung off of it with his name drawn in marker. Beside that was a square metal thermos and Peter immediately grabbed it up.

“Pancakes!” He exclaimed upon opening the container. The warm aroma of the food wafted around him and he immediately grabbed one up, not bothering to use the fork that was provided. How long had it been since he had a warm freshly cooked meal? Ever since losing his apartment he had survived on random dumpster left overs and the occasional snack from the corner store. Even when he was in the apartment and employed, he had been mostly sustained by microwavable meals, frozen pizza and ramen noodles.

His eyes closed and his head lulled back as he chewed on the golden brown pancake, savoring it's taste. It wasn't until the ache of hunger waned and his mind cleared that he even thought to question where the food had come from. Should he even have eaten it?

“Could be a trap.” He muttered while stuffing the last cake in his mouth, too taken by the taste to even care. He figured this had to be the work of Josh Rhodes, that was the only possible solution he could think of...unless there was some random good Samaritan out there treating the homeless as the holidays rolled around.

“Can't be that, it had to be Josh.” He concluded, eyeing the box with his name on it. “Must be like a farewell present.” And his heart sunk, hoping that he saw the man one last time before he left town, in order to properly thank him.

Removing the shiny bow and colored wrapping paper made a giddy feeling rise in his chest, like a child on their birthday with a gift from a friend. He nearly tore the lid off, eager to see what was inside. The objects within made Peter's heart twist up, a feeling of undeserving washing over him. Josh had really put too much effort into the surprise gift for him. A pair of fuzzy warm Spider-Man slippers were stuffed neatly in the box beside a fur lined winter coat, hat and gloves. There were even a few packs of various snack foods and bottled water.

Peter wiped back a stray tear that threatened to trickle down his cheek. It was an amazing feeling that surrounded him, like someone out there cared about him, even if just a little bit. They cared enough to make sure he was warm and able to survive the winter.

Peter slipped the coat on, amazed at how perfectly it fit him. He flopped back down into the snug blankets, head resting on the plush, welcoming pillow. Maybe...just maybe he could stay in the warmth of being loved for a minute longer.

 

* * *

 

It was windier than usual. Wade could feel the ice cold nip of winter boring through the lining of his suit and raking it's cold frosted claws down his scarred skin. He shivered.

{Maybe Petey will stay all bundled up in that snug little coat we got him! He should just stay by the heater tonight, let us patrol.} Yellow sighed, the subject of Peter was ever on their minds. Wade nodded in agreement, despite knowing Petey's big overflowing heart would never allow him to abandon NY.

[Why didn't we leave him any cash?] White huffed, skeptical as usual.

“Didn't want to freak him out at first. We'll give him cash...I just got to figure out how to get him to accept it.” Wade grumbled in response. He was trying to focus on carefully connecting two wires to a piece of S.H.I.E.L.D tech he acquired, but the boxes were too busy chattering on.

[I don't see how him waking up in his tent only for it to be newly furnished won't freak him out...]

{No it's romantic!} Yellow argued.

[How is it at all romantic? He doesn't know we are the ones who did it. If anything it's kinda creepy. Like...something a stalker would do. You know...the kind that will kill you after you reject them.] White pointed out.

“We aren't stalking him...we're...protecting him.” Wade shrugged, that's how he saw it anyways. And what choice did he have really? Petey wasn't giving him any other options. If he was going to refuse help, then he would just have to trick him into accepting it.

{See? Totally romantic.}

[That won't hold up in court.] They bickered on and Wade somehow managed to finish constructing the contraption he had been tinkering with, just as their favorite hero swung his way onto the roof.

“Evening Wade!” He exclaimed, his voice was cheery, reminding Wade of the Spidey he left behind before leaving for the Congo.

{He's happy. It's probably from our gift.} Yellow mused.

“You seem happy.” Wade couldn't help the smile that practically shown through his mask. Spidey paused, before crouching beside the mercenary, staring at the device he had been fiddling with.

“I am.” He finally answered. “What's that?” He gestured towards the wired box Wade was now holding.

“This, my dear Spidey, is like a...well I don't know what it's called. But I have it wired to alert us whenever the local fire departments get a call. I can basically hook a pair of headphones into it and listen. I figured it could maybe give us the chance to catch any Pyroclan members.” He shrugged, it wasn't the best idea, but it was something.

{In our defense, the Pyroclan is sort of the least of our worries right now. We have a Petey pie to take care of.} Yellow snorted.

“It looks primitive. Does it work?” Peter carefully lifted up the device, turning it over in his hands to examine it. A small light on it began to flash red and Wade grabbed it back.

“Yup.” He said matter of factually, hooking in the headphones and listening to the call.

“Is it a fire?” Petey looked around the sky line, searching for any signs of smoke or distress.

“Nah,” Wade flipped the headphones back off, folding his arms. “Just some kid got his head hung in some stair rails. They got this.”

“So...we're going to listen to every call this thing picks up, and if it's a fire, we're going to head to the location and look for any possible gang involvement?” Spidey questioned, sounding unsure about the whole thing.

“Basically.” Wade nodded. And that's exactly how most of their night went. Wade carried around the box as they trailed the random fires that popped up over town. At first they leapt at the word “fire!” when it came through on the box, showing up to just about any call. However, after hours of turning up to nothing but small kitchen fires, homeless trash can fires and faulty smoke alarms, the heroes became picky.

“What is it this time?” Peter yawned, watching as the moon disappeared over the sky line. It was getting late.

“Some lady said her dryer caught on fire. Sounds like it's contained though.” He sighed. “This is the reason why we always empty the lint trap.” he chucked the headphones off, mildly frustrated with the lack of help the contraption was.

“We'll get something eventually, it's only a matter of time.” Spidey fought off another yawn. He neared the mercenary, placing a hand on Deadpool's shoulder offering him an encouraging pat. “I'm impressed with the effort you've put into this. We'll figure it out, but I think I'm going to call it a night and head home.”

Wade puffed up his chest, he had done good, Spidey, his baby boy, his Petey pie, was proud of him. However, his excitement soon dissipated as he watched the webbed wonder swing off into the night.

{His home is a literal tint under a bridge.} Yellow reminded them. Not that Deaadpool needed reminding.

[We should follow him again, make sure he's safe.] White suggested, his tone softer than usual. [We also need to come up with a way to get him off the street permanently. Those goodies we gave him should be enough for the weekend, but no longer than that.] He added. Wade agreed, it had been his constant worry for the past few hours. His brain was struggling to come up with a solution that would allow Spidey to get off the streets without him knowing Wade was the one helping him.

{I still think we should just go in, sweep him off his feet, tell him he can live with us then BAM, we solved homelessness and then he'll fall in love with us and live in our house and sleep in our bed and shower in our...}

[Unrealistic, that would never happen.]

{DON'T YOU EVER SAY NEVER TO ME!} Yellow shrieked, and continued to verbally attack White. Wade managed to wrap up the device and wires while the boxes bickered, then headed off towards the tent city, careful not to let Spidey see him.

He tried to be hopeful, to imagine what it would be like when he successfully saved his baby boy. But the lack of a plan had him fretting over the future, and wondering if he was even capable of helping Peter out. He knew, deep down that he could throw it all to the wind and just hand Peter the cash to get back on his feet. But that would mean losing him, losing him for good. He was too selfish, and he knew it.

{We are terrible, literally the worst.}

[That's why we could never be a true hero.]

They were right, and it hurt, but Wade convinced himself he had lost enough in life, and he wasn't going to lose Peter. However, the weight of his guilt only grew ten fold when the tent city came into view. There was Peter, standing, unmoving while staring at his tent, ripped and ransacked. The zipper on the door had been practically torn open, flapping wildly in the night wind. The box Wade had wrapped and decorated with a bow was chucked a few feet away, busted in as if it had been trampled on. His blankets, heater, sleeping bag and food were all gone. Peter was back to what he started with, if anything, he may have been worse off.

[One step forward...ten steps back.] White sighed.

{Look what you did!} Yellow was sobbing {You made him a huge target! Giving him all these things when he doesn't even have anywhere to keep them safe! Of course he was going to get robbed. There are other homeless people out there or just punks in general. You didn't help him, you painted a big red circle on him and put him in a gun range!} Yellow went off.

Wade's hands tightened into fists, watching in the shadows of a nearby roof top. He had tried to do good, but all he caused was pain and hurt to his precious Spidey. Fear, sorrow, anger, regret...he couldn't separate them as they overtook his mind and drowned out the boxes.

He had done this.

He watched as Spidey crawled into his broken home, knees drawn up close and lying on his side.

He had to fix this.

Wade sat on the roof, settling into a comfortable position, eyes trained on the small ripped yellow tent. His heart twisted every time he saw Peter roll over in his sleep, or pulls his limbs closer, hand groping for a blanket subconsciously. No one approached the tent, or even bothered to be out on such a frigid brisk night when the clouds covered the stars and the shadows grew deep and long. Even the morning brought no warmth, unable to penetrate the canopy of clouds overhead.

Having had all night to brood, regret his actions and come up with some half baked plan, Deadpool sprang into action the moment Peter left his tent. He trailed him for a few blocks until he entered a crowded street, bustling with citizens on their way to work.

Quickly the mercenary grabbed a random business man and pulled him onto a side street, hand over his mouth. The man struggled and shrieked, but his cries were lost to the hustle and bustle of the morning city life.

“Sh sh sh sh” Deadpool hissed. “I'm not going to hurt you, I'm a hero, see?” He let the man go who quickly took several steps back and looked the mercenary over with a cautious eye.

[Hardly.]

“S-Spider-Man? You're much taller in person.” The man questioned, dusting off his newly pressed grey suit.

“I'm flattered but no.”

“Daredevil? I thought you only operated in Hell's Kitchen.” The man guessed again, cocking his head in confusion.

“Seriously? You've heard of that poser but no...no never mind. Getting off topic.” Wade pinched the bridge of his nose through his mask. “I have a proposition for you.”

[That's not creepy.]

{Pretty sure that's the definition of creepy.}

The man took another step back before Wade pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and waved it in the air.

[You made it worse. Wonder what sex act he thinks you want him to preform.]

“Uhm,” the man awkwardly scooted towards the mouth of the street, eyes watching the mercenary.

“It's not whatever you're thinking...unless you're thinking I want you to help a homeless kid, then yeah it's exactly what you're thinking.” The man paused and Wade stepped closer.

“See that kid over there?” He pointed up the street where Peter was stopped at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn. “If you catch up to him, and give him this money, I'll give you a hundred bucks. Tell him you felt like blessing someone or whatever the hell it is people say when they give strangers money. Tell him it was me and not only will I NOT pay you, but...” he leaned closer, eyes narrowing, “I'll kill you.” His voice was low and thick, spurred from the need to keep his Spidey safe.

{May I remind you that Spidey would absolutely never ever forgive us if we did that.}

[He also wouldn't forgive us if he found out we stalked him and learned his secret identity. Scaring this man into keeping his mouth shut wont hurt anyone.] White argued back. The man nodded his head quickly, taking the money and hurrying up the street toward the cross walk.

“See? This will make up for the tent, everything in it, the food, heck he could pay three months rent with that money.” Wade boasted, folding his arms with approval.

[He's counting it.] White grunted.

“What?” Wade let his arms dropped, caught off guard by the comment.

[He's looking back at us now.] Wade furrowed his brows watching as the man stepped closer to Peter just before the light changed. He turned back again, giving Wade a quick glance before charging past Peter and across the street just as the light changed.

“That motherfucker!” Wade barked instantly charging up the street in pursuit.

[We should have put it in an envelope.]

{We could have offered him more money}

[Should have picked a mother and child to do it.]

{Or we could have showed him our guns, pretend like we were aiming at him while he did it}

[Literally anything would have been smarter than this.]

Wade ignored their late advice, what good would it do him now? He stormed up the sidewalk, nearing the intersection. By now the people, including Peter, had crossed the street, and the business man was still sprinting several blocks ahead. He made a quick right and disappeared out of sight. But he wasn't getting away that easy, no, Wade was determined. So determined in fact that he failed to notice the light change and the “do not cross” symbol blinking at him.

[Why did the chicken cross the road?] White sighed as Wade ran straight into on-coming traffic.

{So he could go night night.} Yellow chimed in just as a bus horn blared and breaks screeched. Wade shocked many citizens of NY that morning as he became a piece of modern art smeared across the asphalt by a city buss. He came to several hours later in the local morgue, scaring the life out of the mortician.

[Ok...plan B].

Plan B was yet another poorly put together ruse, in which Wade finally got to use the Freddy Krueger mask he had tucked away in his closet.

“It's funny cas I look like him.” Wade explained to the boxes who found the whole thing rather demeaning. “It's not like I have any pride left to kill.” He argued with them.

“W-what?” The frightened hotel receptionist stuttered, hands still held in the air.

“Oh, uh, I said give me all your money!” Wade demanded, waving his gun for emphasis.

[This is so dumb, so much dumber than our last plan.] White groaned as the poor woman stuffed the plastic bag Wade had given her with what little cash was in the register. Her hands shook and trembled and Wade desperately wanted to tell her his gun was not in fact loaded, but that would ruin his whole plan so he kept his mouth sealed.

[Again, you are a dumb ass and this is a dumb ass plan.]

“Have a little faith.” Wade barked, not bothering to answer them silently. The woman made no comments to his random outburst and tossed him the bag of money before ducking behind the counter.

“Thank you!” Wade yelled as he ran from the hotel and out into the night air.

[He's going to catch us, you can't out run Spidey. Do you realize how this is like...double bad?] White tried desperately to reason with him.

“It's double jeopardy, they cancel each other out.” Wade shrugged, charging down the streets making sure to make a huge scene as he “escaped”.

{There he is! He's quick.} Yellow chirped as Spidey swung into sight.

“Too bad for you it's not Halloween,” he heard Spidey call, “Or I would have thought nothing of Freddy Krougar running around downtown with a bag of goodies.”

{Oh my god he's quipping at us!} Yellow squealed.

[Yeah and he'll be “thwipping” at us in a second. Hope this plan of yours isn't as sorry as the last one.] White scoffed. Wade made no remark, keeping his eye trained on Spidey, watching as he swung closer. He saw the webbed wonder twist, outstretching his arm, ready to aim. Then, quickly, Wade reached into the bag of money, grabbed a wad of cash and hurled it into the streets yelling,

“Free money! Come and get it!”

“What!?” Peter exclaimed, immediately dropping down to gather the bills that had fallen. “Nothing to see here!” He shouted as random civilians began to show interest in the Freddy Kruger handing out wads of cash. “This is not free money! It was stolen!” Spidey explained loudly, gathering the money just as Wade threw another hand full at a group of teens he ran past.

Spider-Man quickly followed behind, doing his best to collect all the cash so he could return it. However, with his hands full, he was unable to shoot a web at the escaping thief. Instead, he followed close behind, making sure not a single bill was lost or given away.

“You get a dollar, and you get a dollar!” Wade laughed, chucking money left and right. “Everyone gets dollars!” With that he overturned the bag and shook it empty all over the sidewalk before darting into a side alley.

“What the hell...” Spidey quickly scooped to retrieve the bag, desperately scrambling to pick up all the stray bills before the wind whisked them away. “It's like Freddy Krueger swapped personalities with Robin Hood!” After gathering what he could of all the money, Peter charged into the alley where he had seen the thief go. He was met with a dead end, occupied with dumpsters and pallets. Resting on top of the pallets was a red box with a label reading, “Care package.” and “Open me.” Unsure what to think, and feeling a tad curious, Peter opened the lid, hoping to god it wasn't a bomb. He was met with stacks and stacks of crisp Benjamins, neatly tied together. He figured there were several thousand dollars crammed into the small box.

“This is just...weird.” He frowned, tucking the package under his arm and double checking the surrounding area for any signs of the masked burglar. After accepting that Freddy Krueger had escaped, Peter returned the money to the Hotel. By now the police had arrived on scene and Spider-Man was quick to tell them about the burglar and the strange box of cash he found that had no doubt also been stolen. He turned it over to them, hoping they could return to wherever it had come from. Wade, watching from a nearby rooftop, was not too pleased. 

[Great, just great.] White sighed. [Not only did your plan fail to put any money in Peter's pocket, but now we've lost about thirty grand for absolutely no reason.]

“Next plan...it'll work next time for sure.” Wade insisted as the cogs in his mind continued to turn.

Hoping to keep things simple Wade took a different approach with his next two ideas. During their patrols Wade tried his best to convince Spidey into staying the night at his place, if only for one night.

[What good will one night do?] White snorted in judgement.

“It'll give him a chance to get out of the cold and we can sneak money into his suit while he's sleeping.” White thought back.

{And we can sneak him OUT of his suit.} Yellow hummed.

“So what do you say?” Wade asked aloud, hoping Spidey would, for once, take the bait. “It's getting cold out here and we could just take the box back to my place and listen for calls to the fire department from there. Maybe even toss some theories around about this whole Pyroclan gang.” he offered.

“Oh...well...I'm not so sure that's a...”

“I'll order us some pizza.” Wade wiggled his eyebrows, knowing his poor baby boy had to be starving. Peter was quiet, turning the proposal over in his mind.

“It's not like there's a down side to this.” Wade huffed, feeling the hesitation in the hero. However, Peter felt there was a down side, and a rather massive one at that. He could see it now, see himself getting comfortable and warm at Wade's place. He wouldn't want to leave, to return to his own destroyed, cold tent. He would miss Wade's home, his company, his hospitality. Once he got a taste of the normal life again, would he be able to so quickly give it up? What would he do in order to stay in that environment? Would he even be able to leave after one night?

Peter longed to say yes, to leap at the opportunity, but he had to push temptation away. He could feel his urge to stay strong slowly shattering every day, and surely he would break at Wade's kindness. He would beg the mercenary to let him stay and wind up a burden on Wade's back. He didn't want the man to become his financial crutch, to feel used and taken advantage of. So Peter shot the idea down.

“Nah...let's just...stay out here.” He shrugged, unable to come up with an excuse.

[He's probably disgusted by the very idea of staying with us...I would be.]

{He could learn to love us.} Yellow tried to stay positive through their many attempts to get Petey off the streets, but with each failure came crushing defeat and the feeling that Wade was completely incapable of doing any good, no matter how hard he tried.

It should have come to no surprise to him when Peter even declined his request to split the pay on a S.H.I.E.L.D mission Nick Fury had offered him. It had seemed promising at first, until Peter found out they were supposed to kill and dispose of a drug lord and his gang. Peter was having none of that. Really, Wade should have known.

So, at the end of his rope, Wade's new plan had him lying “helpless” in a back alley, receiving a nasty pummeling from a couple of typical street thugs, the kind him and Spidey caught on a regular basis. Of course, little did they know they were kicking and beating a mutant hero, not a defenseless old man. The mercenary always found himself amazed with the high tech devises S.H.I.E.L.D came up with. In this case it was an image changer of sorts, a small watch like device that projected altered visual data into cerebral cortices.

[And other brainy pseudo science terms.]

{I was never great at science.}

[In layman's terms it's a cloaking device that makes ua appear like a wrinkled up grape of an eighty year old man.]

{We already look like a wrinkled up grape}

[Yeah but now we're old and ugly.]

Wade held back a groan as the taller of his assaulters sent one last good kick to his gut before reaching down to rummage his pockets for his wallet.

[It'd be just our luck if he doesn't show to save us.] White muttered, he was tired of the failed ideas and half baked plans. Just as Wade was about to give up and pick another spot to get mugged, he heard the all too familiar sound of webbing zipping through the air. Sure enough, one of his attackers was yanked off the ground and webbed to the closest wall. Spidey was quiet, no witty jokes rolled from his lips as he eyed the defeated mercenary folded in the fetal position on the ground. Of course, it wasn't Wade he saw, but a wounded, aging man, old enough to be tying balloons to his house and keep the company of a talking dog.

“You alright sir?” He asked after quickly detaining the thugs. He crouched by Wade who faked a few coughs.

“I'll...I'll be fine.” He took Peter's outstretched hand and struggled to his feet. He tried to stand in a hunched position, really sell the old man act. “Thank you kindly young whipper snapper.”

{Is that how old people talk?}

[You're overdoing it.]

“Are you sure you're alright? Looks like you really took a beating. I can call an ambulance.” Spidey seemed worried, checking the older man for bruises on his arms.

“Nonsense, I'll be fine. But please, let me pay you for rescuing me.” Wade pulled a huge wad of cash from his back pocket, too much for any old man to be wondering around with. Spidey immediately took a step back, holding his hands up apologetically.

“That's okay sir, I don't accept money for good deeds.” He said.

“I insist, take it.” Wade shifted closer, holding the money out earnestly.

“That's very kind of you sir, but I can't take this. You keep it.” Spidey eyed the cash and knew it was far too much money for him to even dream of accepting from an elderly man who may possibly need it for medical bills. There was no way he didn't suffer an injury from that attack.

“I'm getting on in my years and I won't be here much longer. My grandkids never bother to come visit to I want to leave my money with someone like you. You came to the aid of a little old man, you deserve it. You've earned it. I'll even write you into my will.” Deadpool felt like he would snap if Spidey didn't just accept the money and give up his stubborn streak.

[Too far, you sound crazy.] White sighed.

{My plan is still the best one. Let's just take him home...like a lost stray puppy.} Yellow suggested for what was possibly the millionth time.

Peter stepped closer and hooked an arm over Wade's shoulder giving him a gentle pat.

“Come with me sir, I think you need to go get checked. Just in case.” Spidey took the money and slipped it back into Wade's back pocket. He was completely convinced that this elderly man had suffered a mild concussion. Who in their right mind would offer to write a complete stranger into their will?

He could see the protest in the man's eye until he scooped him up bridal style and thwipped himself onto the roof. Wade went mute, clutching onto Spidey as closely as he could. It was a brief moment of bliss throughout the stress and regret that he had been suffering through. To be carried so closely by his baby boy was a fantasy come to life. But he couldn't truly enjoy it, not knowing that Peter believed him to be an eighty year old senile man. No, that completely sucked the joy out of everything.

Even as Spider-Man dropped him off in the hospital waiting room and talked with the receptionist, he refused to say another word. Even after Spidey had gone, Wade still sat in silence, stewing over his busted plans.

“Stupid,” he finally grumbled, ripping off the device much to the surprise of the poor receptionist. “This was the dumbest plan ever, it was never going to work.” Wade sighed, letting his body sag in the waiting room chair.”

[No, yesterday's plan was the dumbest. Trailing Peter as he applied for jobs, sneaking into the places he applied to after he left, pulling out your gun and demanding they “hire the boy who was just in here” was literally the most insane thing you've done in a long time. I'm almost positive they threw his resume out immediately after you left.] White scolded. Wade hated to admit how desperation drove him to new heights of delusion.

{It's the thought that counts.} Yellow tried to lighten the mood.

[That's the problem...we don't think. HE doesn't think, just acts on impulse!]

“I don't know what to do anymore.” Wade huffed, walking out of the hospital, head hung in defeat. His heart was aching for his poor Spidey, guilt was weighing heavy on him and helplessness rode his shoulders all the way home. How could he possibly help his baby boy, and keep him at the same time? He warred with himself all night, trying his hardest to believe that letting Spidey go wasn't the only way to save him.

[Sometimes letting things go is an act of far greater power than defending or hanging on.]

“No.”

[If you love him let him go.]

“Stop.” Wade sobbed, crouching in the darkness of his lonely apartment. He held his hands over his ears, but it did nothing to stop the voices in his head.

[Let him go before it's too late, he'll never love you back anyways.] White had no end to his supply of internet quotes, each one picking away at Wade until he was nothing but a trembling mess, a failure, never a hero, and incapable of helping even his greatest love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know a lot of you were excited for/ expecting/ hoping to get a Sugar Daddy Deadpool here to save the day for his baby boy. I'm sure you were disappointed to instead get worried/screw up Wade Wilson who has no clue how to help another human being. Trust me when I say that Sugar Daddy Deadpool is coming, it WILL happen and it will be glorious! 
> 
> This chapter, I'm realizing, was basically a goofy montage of Wade failing to give Petey money XD what have I done? 
> 
> Also...if the first bit seems cliche...I have my reason :P lol I just can't help myself. 
> 
> Little tid-bit:
> 
> I've refrained from having Peter make a cardboard sign and beg on the side of the road for many reasons. Not only do I feel like he is too prideful at this point to do it, but I often wonder how many beggars actually are in desperate need of money and how many are just trying to get easy cash to pay for their addictions.  
> In many cities the police, and even the shelters discourage the act of handing out money to the beggars. In Britain one magazine came out with an article claiming that about half the people begging on their streets actually had a home to return to and were in fact not homeless. 
> 
> So many people have adapted the idea that beggars will end up using the money they are given for things other than food, and rightfully so. There have been many cases of aggressive beggars, beggars who refused food, and beggars who have used it for drugs or alcohol. 
> 
> The sad thing about it is that by abusing the system, these frauds have made it nearly impossible for actual homeless people, starving people in need of quick cash, to be given any. People are so worried about being tricked into feeling sympathetic for those who don't need it. I'm not saying you shouldn't give money to the homeless, not at all. I encourage giving, especially if you feel led to. But sometimes a meal can be more helpful than a few dollars. 
> 
> Carrying around money, or any valuables, is dangerous for a homeless person. Homeless are often targeted and robbed for what little possessions they have, even something as small as $5. 
> 
> One homeless man by the name of Harry Lee brown was robbed by a man and a teen. He was beaten with a baseball bat and punched until he was a bloody mess on the ground. His two attackers then took the $5 on his person, and left him to die of his injuries. This is just one of thousands of similar incidents. That is why I, and others, agree that sometimes food is just the best option when it comes to helping the homeless. But if you have a different opinion feel free to share :) I'd love to hear ya'lls thoughts.


	8. A Night in Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daredevil finds himself pulled into the Pyroclan mess and Spidey questions his methods when it comes to dealing with the gang members. Yet, he can't deny it get's the job done.

A thick fog had settled on Hell's Kitchen, giving Morris a feeling of unease. It didn't help that the particular street he found himself on was void of any human life, encased in a calming hush. Although it was mid day, the S.H.I.E.L.D agent couldn't help but feel like he was prowling around in the middle of the night, trying his hardest to gun undetected.

It had been a few days since Spider-Man suggested he try to talk to the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, Matt Murdock, the man responsible for bringing down the King Pin. Despite knowing his identity, (there wasn't much S.H.I.E.L.D didn't know), Morris was having trouble locating the illusive lawyer. Still, he followed what little leads he had and that's how he found himself standing in front of Fogwell's Gym. Once a thriving place, it was now shut down due to it's involvement in rigged fighting. Still, the gym had it's fair share of visitors.

Morris approached the door, eyeing where a hole had been punched through the glass, hopefully this time he would finally catch Daredevil. The faint sound of heavy breathing and grunting reached his ears, and Morris prayed to god it was Matt. Just to be safe, he pulled his gun from his belt before slowly pushing the door open. Immediately the Gym fell silent.

Morris took a shaky breath, gun in hand but not poised. He wasn't looking to get jumped by the Daredevil just because he was mistaken for a shady character.  
“Matt Murdock?” He called. He had just barely stepped into the threshold when a bandaged hand zipped from behind the door and yanked him onto the floor. His gun was kicked from his hand and Morris found himself pinned to the ground with a knee grinding into his back.

“Not again.” He groaned, S.H.I.E.L.D agents always got the short end of the stick.

“Who sent you? Fisk!?” Matt hissed through gritted teeth, holding Morris' hand behind his back in a death grip.

“N-no!” Morris gasped. “My name is Morris. I'm a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, S-spider-Man sent me!” Matt didn't move for a good second before he finally let go of Morris and pulled him off the ground.

“What is up with the company that web slinger keeps. You and Deadpool, just jumping to conclusions.” Morris grumbled, retrieving his gun and rubbing the soar spot on his back.

“You should work on your approach. In a career like mine, you quickly learn that when someone sneaks up on you with a gun, they are usually trying to kill you.” Matt explained, returning to a dusty old punching bag he had presumably been pummeling. Morris followed him, taking a seat on a rickety stool just behind the hero.

“I'm assuming this has something to do with my latest encounter with the Spider-Man?” Matt huffed, sending his fist flying into the sand bag.

“What was your last encounter with him?”

“I found him and Deadpool inspecting a dumpster here in Hell's Kitchen. There was the burnt corpse of a homeless man inside.” He explained, still pounding on the punching bag.

“Yes, it's related to that.” he paused before adding, “Spider-Man and Deadpool sure have been sighted together a lot recently.” Matt stopped, wiping sweat from his brow.

“Are you here to waste my time with gossip? Or do you actually have important business.” He grumbled. Morris was quiet for a moment, glancing up quizzically at Matt, searching for any signs that he was in an ill mood. The hero paused, placing a hand on the punching bag to still it. Sweat dripped down his forehead and biceps. His hair was disheveled slightly and he just looked down right exhausted. What skin Morris could see was adorned with battle scars and bruises, proof that the life of a hero wasn't all flashy costumes and easy victories. Morris had only ever seen the man in photos, wearing his red glasses or the mask, but his eyes...he had sad eyes. Although blind, they were deep and filled with emotion, as if they had seen many hard ships. Without the suit he appeared like a down to Earth no nonsense guy, carrying his own burdens and worries just like everyone else. Morris heaved a sigh, hoping Matt would be more reasonable than other heroes he had come across.

“Sorry.” He finally said, “Yes I am here on important business.” Matt gave a nod and sent a quick jab into the bag, as if aware there were no longer eyes roaming over him.

“You said you had come across a burned body when you encountered Spider-Man a few weeks back. Do you know anything else about it?” He pulled a notepad from his pocket, along with a pencil, ready to take down any important information Matt may provide him with.

“If you've come here for answers, I'm afraid you won't get many. That was only the second body I came across, and I've only seen three.” Matt huffed, grabbing up a jug of water from a side bench.

“You've come across more? Please tell me about those instances. Every little detail that you can remember.” Morris urged him on. Matt finally took a seat, beginning to slowly unravel the bandages wrapped around his knuckles.

“The first time I found one was very similar the second one. Except this victim was not in a dumpster. He was in the elevator shaft of a condemned parking deck. There was nobody in the area at the time and I didn't gather any clues. Just thought it was a random attack. The second time was also...just as...mysterious.” He huffed. Folding the bandages.

“And the third?”

“That one was very different.” He sighed, “the body hadn't even been burned yet an--”

“Wait, what!?” Morris blinked in surprise as he scooted towards the edge of his seat.

“It wasn't burned. I heard someone struggling in a back alley, went to investigate. When I got there I...accidentally spooked them before I could get the jump on them and they fled. I pursued them as fast as I could but they...got away.” He looked down as if in shame, rubbing his hand subconsciously over a bruise on his arm. Morris nodded silently, he was amazed that Matt was even capable of performing any hero work considering his handy cap. He knew Daredevil didn't have any enhanced strength or speed like other heroes, he was almost just as normal as the average New Yorker.

“So...did you find anything else out?” Morris cleared his throat, hoping Matt wouldn't shy away from the conversation now.

“Uh, yeah. When I returned I found where they had dropped a lighter. That's how I figured this dead homeless man was about to become another burn victim.” He reasoned.

“He was already dead? What did he look like? Did he have wounds? Was there any blood?” Morris demanded to know.

“Uh...” Matt raised a brow, “I mean I'm not a hundred percent sure but he didn't appear to have any open wounds. I called the police and I'm assuming they sent the body off to a morgue to be dealt with.” He shrugged.

“When was this?”

“Around 4 am yesterday morning.”

Before Morris got a chance to question him further, the soft vibrations of a phone buzzed through the air.

“Foggy, Foggy, Foggy..” Matt's phone alerted him to a caller.

“I should go.” Matt stood, grabbing up his phone and sending the call to voicemail.

“Wait! I asked Spider-Man and Deadpool to keep an eye out for anymore clues to crack this. Nick Fury has put me on this case and I think I'm close to solving it. There's this gang going around called the Pyroclan and I have reason to believe they're responsible for this. Recent sitings have shown that most of their gang members have a phoenix tattoo somewhere on their person. Looks like this.” He held out a photo Fury had given him.

Matt paused, eyes never glancing down to the picture. He gave the detective a blank stare before Morris quickly coughed and shoved it back in his notebook, cheeks turning a shade of red.

“So, you want me to keep an ear out for any news on this Pyroclan and what...let you know about it?” He headed for the door, Morris followed.

“Yeah just, give me a call.”

Matt stopped abruptly, retrieved his phone and shoved it in the detectives hands.

“Number.” he grunted, and Morris added himself into the hero's contacts. “Ok then, I'll cal you if I find anything.” Matt slipped a pair of red glasses from his pocket on and grabbed a white cane that was resting in the corner. Then he headed out into the street, tapping the cane along the sidewalk as he disappeared into the fog.

Morris shut the door to Fogwell's gym, making sure to lock it from the inside. He scanned over his notes before retrieving his own phone and calling Vernon.

“Hey, Daredevil called in a body yesterday morning some time after 4 am. Said it was a homeless guy. Can you get me the details on that?”

“Sure thing.”

 

* * *

 

The heat between them was the only thing keeping Wade from pacing the roof like a distressed animal in a cage. He sat against the parapet, Spidey right beside him, their arms pressed close together. Some moments ago Peter's head had come to rest on the mercenary's shoulder, the eyes of his mask closing. Wade didn't have the courage to move, in case his baby boy had fallen asleep.

{He needs his rest.} Yellow cooed.

[Yes, but I highly doubt he'll wake up if we breathe.] White pointed out. Wade gave a heavy exhale, realizing he had been holding his own breath, too afraid of disturbing Petey. After seeing the condition Peter's tent had been left in, guilt had been bearing on the mercenary like a heavy stone, crushing him slowly. He didn't know what to do anymore, didn't know how to help, he was at the end of his rope. He wanted to be able to work up the courage to confront Spidey, hoping he wouldn't be too upset to accept his help. But as he glanced down at the hero beside him, silently resting, chest rising and falling with every breath, he couldn't imagine losing him. He was the single star in his darkest nights, the feeling of joy in his deepest despairs, and he knew the pain of Peter's rejection could be a wound not even his healing factor could mend.

[Coward.]

“Who's side are you on? Do you want to lose Spidey?” He thought in response.

{No. That would ruin us.}

As Wade and the boxes continued to war and bicker with each other, the small box the mercenary was supposed to be watching began to flash. Another call was coming through.

“Hold on.” He thought, as if expecting the boxes to pause their quarrel while he listened in to see what it was. Due to not wanting to wake Peter, he moved slowly, catching the middle of the call by the time his headphones were on.

“Sir can you repeat that? You said you saw what now?” The operator asked. The sound of panting and car horns could be heard from the other end, as if the caller was jogging through the streets.

“I was jogging through the De Witt Clinton Park and...saw a fire or something.” The man huffed.

“You said you saw a fire?” The operator repeated. “How big was this fire?”

“I-uh...didn't get a good look. I mean...there was a fire in the park. Smelled like someone was burning trash or something. I don't know lady. It was near some trees or something and I just..didn't want anything to catch on fire...” He continued on but Wade had heard enough, this sounded exactly like what they had been waiting for.

Gently he patted Peter's shoulder, reluctantly waking him from his midnight nap.

“Hey, got a call. This sounds promising.” He explained as Peter stirred. He was already typing De Witt Clinton Park into his GPS, hoping it wasn't too far.

“Where at? Give me the deets.” Spidey grunted, standing to stretch out his tired muscles.

“De Witt Clinton Park, it's near Hell's Kitchen.” He showed his phone to Spidey who looked it over quickly, memorizing the fastest route. “Caller said they saw a fire in the park near some trees or something. Said it smelled like someone was burning trash. Guess we'll find out what they're really burning.” Peter handed him back the phone as he climbed on to the web slinger's back like an awkward oversized pet monkey.

“Maximum Effort!” Wade shouted as Spidey leapt from the building and they were air born. The two were soon swinging over Manhattan towards the sighting of the fire, in hopes to get there before whoever started it left, and before the fire department could put it out. As much as Peter wanted to find this gang, get them off the streets and keep the homeless of New York (and himself) safe, he also hoped deep down that there was no burned corpse to be found in the park. Just the very idea, stirring up the memories of that horrible smell, made him shiver and dread another night alone in his tent.

“Almost there, just around this corner.” Wade commented, holding the phone in front of Peter's face. Sure enough they could both see the distant flicker of flames through the park bushes, and already the sound of a fire engine could be heard over the bustle of the city. Despite it being visible, both Wade and Peter could tell the fire was nothing huge or out of control. As they landed and rushed into the park, they soon discovered the flames burning in a park trash can.

“Search the area for whoever lit this.” Spidey demanded, quickly headed to investigate around the park's trees. Deadpool turned to follow the walking trail, eyes sharp, ears strained for the sound of footsteps. He glared at the playground a ways off and began making his way towards it. All at once there was a flash of red on the other side of the clearing, headed to the very same playground. Deadpool quickened his pace until he was sprinting, now able to see what looked like Daredevil standing at the top of a slide.

“Spidey!” Wade called, catching the hero's attention, but his eyes never left the devil of Hell's Kitchen. He watched as the hero in red reached into the slide, struggling to pull out what Wade could only guess was a person.

“Get out of the slide!” He heard Daredevil bark before yanking a scrawny man, no older than twenty, out of it.

“Let me go you fuckin red horned bitch!” The man screamed.

{Red bull!} Yellow cracked. {That would have been funnier.}

[We're not trying to get sued.]

“Hardly the time for jokes.”

By now Spidey had raced over, and without asking questions, was joining Daredevil in his attempt to apprehend the mysterious playground perpetrator. With a few good thwips Peter had the man's ankles bound in webbing and his wrists soon followed suit.

“Uh, F-fire department is here.” Wade alerted the two as they carried the man off the playground equipment.

“We can't question him here.” Daredevil huffed, his voice deep and rough like a bucket of rocks grinding together.

“Question him? We aren't...going to call Morris? Didn't he contact you?” Spidey asked, following Daredevil who had slung the thug over his shoulder and was high tailing it out of the park. Deadpool was hot on their tails.

“Morris told me to provide him with information regarding the Pyroclan gang. The sooner we get that information the better.” He explained, leading the group over the park fence, across the street and on to the roof of a local storage unit building. By the time they finally stopped, Wade could see down into the park, watching as the Fire men dumped a bucket of water onto the trash can and called it a night.

“I said let me go you fuckin dumb ass! With your shitty red costumes lookin like some red hot chilly peppers.”

“I'm more of an avocado.” Daredevil grunted, tossing the man onto the roof.

{WHAT!? We're the ones that look like an avocado. How dare he say that!?} Yellow hissed.

[Stealing our jokes.]

“Yup, don't like this guy.” Wade grumbled.

“Spider-Man, does this man have any tattoos?” Daredevil questioned, completely ignoring Wade. Spidey approached the webbed up man and shortly found ink on his neck.

“Yeah, there's a phoenix on his neck.” He answered. With this information Daredevil got somehow more serious, his shoulder's stiffening. He shoved past Spidey and grabbed the man by the shoulder's, shaking him violently.

“Listen here kid, we know you're a member of the Pyroclan. Now your'e going to tell me what I want to know and you're going to tell me now!” He barked. The young man's eyes widened in fear, he quickly looked around the roof as if looking for any path of escape. His gaze fell on Spider-Man who was standing, slightly shocked by the devil's outburst.

“I-i'll never talk.” He tried to sound determined but the sweat dripping down his brow gave away his nerves. Daredevil was quiet for a moment, before finally dropping the thug on the ground again.

“You think he'll save you?” He pointed back towards Spider-Man. “The Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man would never let someone get beat mercilessly until they spilled important information. Is that it? He'd just hand you over to the police.” Matt huffed, turning to walk towards Spidey who was beginning to question where Daredevil was taking this. He stepped in front of Peter, causing Deadpool to clench his fists.

“Maybe it'd be best if you waited in the alley.” he sighed, there was no way the kid would talk as long as Spider-Man was standing by to keep him from getting too injured.

“W-what?” Peter stuttered, slightly offended at Daredevil's attempt to dismiss him.

“Spidey isn't going anywhere.” Deadpool stepped in, inserting himself between the two heroes. His fists had slowly been getting tighter, ready to pummel the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

“Wade hold up, I got this.” Spidey tried to speak up but went ignored.

“Deadpool...you should understand this more than anyone. That little twerp won't talk if he thinks we won't actually do anything to him.” Daredevil explained.  
“What does that have to do with anything?” Wade hissed, pretending he had no clue what the other man in red was talking about. He couldn't pin what kind of man Daredevil was, didn't know much about him, and that set the mercenary on edge.

“Don't pretend like you haven't done horrible things to people just for a lick of information. I know who you are, I've heard of the things you've done. You're the complete opposite of Spider-Man over here, why are you defending him now?” Daredevil jabbed a finger at Wade.

{This guy! Who...how...the audacity!}

[He has a point though. We are different than Peter.] White commented. As Wade stared daggers at Matt, and Matt continued to scowl back, Peter tried his best to diffuse the situation.

“Look, we caught a Pyroclan member, let's hurry up and turn him over to S.H.I.E.L.D so they can end this. They're the law, and they can take it from here.” He fussed at the other two.

“There are times when the law isn't enough.” Matt grunted, finally stepping back to the webbed up Pyro. “Now is one of those times.” Matt grabbed the kids collar and yanked his head off the ground.

“Where is your gangs hideout!?” He growled, raising his clenched fist.

“I don't know what you're talking about. I was just sleeping in that slide before you came along.” He fibbed. Daredevil didn't wait another second, and quickly threw a jab into the boy's nose, breaking it with a loud crunch. The poor man howled in pain, blood dribbling down his chin. Spidey flinched back, not expecting the sudden outburst of violence.

“Wait hold up, how do you even know he's a Pyroclan member, it was only a trash can.” Peter pleaded.

“See?” Matt stood, head facing Deadpool as he gestured toward Spidey. “I know he's a member because of the phoenix tattoo. Detective Morris filled me in. This sick twisted thug has been out there burning helpless homeless people.” Matt spat with anger, turning back to punch the man again, no doubt knocking a tooth loose and rattling his brain.

“Talk!” Matt yelled, continuing to batter the thug with attacks. The kid hissed and grunted in pain, but kept his mouth shut, even as one of his eyes began to swell shut and the roof was splattered with drops of crimson.

Petey couldn't take it, watching Daredevil beat the man senseless. He made to intervene but was stopped as Wade grabbed his arm and tugged him back.

“He's gonna kill him.” Spidey gasped out, turning to Wade. “I-I can't let him do that.” Wade didn't answer, just shook his head, hoping Spidey would trust him. And it worked for a moment, Spidey stood his ground and looked away, trying to ignore the sound of crunching bones and groans of agony. But when Daredevil grabbed the man and hauled him near the edge of the building, Peter yanked his arm away from Wade and took after Matt.

“What are you doing?” Peter shrieked, aiming his web shooter at Daredevil who had placed the battered and bloodied thug on the edge of the parapet.

“If he wont talk...” he didn't finish his sentence and turned to shove the man off the roof.

“No no no no I'll talk I'll talk!” The man finally whined through a busted and swollen lip. “I-I just joined!” He sobbed as Daredevil continued to dangle him over the street stories bellow. He grunted and tightened his hold, giving the thug a good shake to encourage him to spill the info faster.

“My brother is a member, I-I joined cas of him.” tears streamed down his bruised face, dropping to the pavement.

“Where is your hideout!” Matt demanded, acting as if his hold was loosening.

“Beyond Vape!” He wailed before becoming a sobbing reck.

“Excuse me what?” Deadpool raised a brow, even Spidey seemed a bit confused. Daredevil finally slid the man back to the roof where he curled up on the floor, wallowing in his own blood and tears.

“What is Beyond Vape?” Daredevil huffed, folding his arms. That atmosphere around them seemed to lighten a bit now that the thug was no longer being beat to a pulp.

“A v-vape shop. Curtis owns it. H-he's head of the clan. I-in the basement. That's where they-have their meetings.” He hiccuped, flinching away as Matt moved.

“Now...we can turn him over to S.H.I.E.L.D.” Daredevil sighed, the gruffness in his voice dropped away and was replaced with exhaustion. Deadpool watched him with a careful eye, beginning to get a feel for the hero's true character.

[He acts tough. And he does a good job of it.] White noticed.

“But he doesn't mean it. Look how tired he is after acting like the bad cop.” Wade thought in response.

{Why does he do it though?} Yellow butted in.

[He has to. No one would take him seriously other wise. He doesn't have powers like us or Spider-Man.] White guessed.

“Maybe.” Wade shrugged, but he had a feeling it was more like a burden to the Daredevil, feeling as if he has to be the heartless Devil of Hell's Kitchen. He recalled what the man had said only moments ago.

{There are times when the law isn't enough.} Yellow hummed in thought.

[Or something like that.]

Wade nodded silently. Perhaps Daredevil wasn't as horrible as he had assumed him to be.

{That doesn't mean we have to like him though.}

The mercenary looked over to his baby boy, who was standing somewhat shocked, unable to move from his spot where he had thought Daredevil was going to chuck the thug off the roof.

“Hey, you alright?” Wade whispered under his breath, approaching the hero. Despite his subtlety, he didn't fail to notice how Daredevil seemed to cock his head, as if listening in.

“Yeah I...it was just...I'll be fine.” Spidey sighed, pulling his phone from his suit. “Guess I should call Morris?” He asked, feeling unsure of himself. Things had quickly gotten out of hand and he didn't even have a grasp on the situation.

“Make it quick. We need to go to this vape shop.” Matt folded his arms, waiting as the webbed wonder informed the S.H.I.E.L.D detective of their findings.

“I'll meet you guys over there after picking up the one on the roof. Don't let them get away.” Morris had said before hanging up and no doubt rushing to his car.

As the tree made their way to the supposed gan hideout, Wade kept his eye on Peter. He noticed how the closer they got to their destination, the more nervous his mannerisms became. His usually smooth web slinging was shaky and unsure, as if his mind was elsewhere. Wade also watched the streets bellow as they glided by on a web. Occasionally he would catch a glimpse of red darting through the alleys bellow or on a roof. Daredevil moved like a parkour kid high on pixie sticks and Monster, leaping over fire escapes and scaling walls with ease. There was a subtle hint of gracefulness he caught if he stared hard enough, but for the most part his actions were strong and powerful, charged with an unknown source of determination and power.

[Jealous.]

“Am not!”

{We can move like that...}

[We are much more sloppy than that.] White pointed out, and that seemed to shut Wade and Yellow up.

Their trip across town was over in the blink of an eye and all three hero's in red found themselves standing outside a beat up corner vape shop with bright neons flashing in the window. Peter gulped, not sure why this particular mission seemed to shake him to his core. He had busted into gang hang out, fought off murderers and rapists and the lowest scum of the Earth. So why was this time so different...why was it so personal?

“Let's go.” Daredevil broke the silence, it was time to end this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ashamed to say it, but I've never been to NY in my life...I am a deeply routed southern girl XD needless to say, I find it hard to believe that Spider-Man wouldn't use a GPS. NYC is huge! I have lived in the same small town for roughly fifteen years and I still sometimes need a GPS to get to some places. I'm just terrible with street names in general. 
> 
> By the way, for those who have never seen Netflix's Daredevil (might I mention it's part of the MCU and totally awesome and worth the watch), Matt is a lawyer who works at his own firm with his college buddy Foggy. In one of the episodes we get a flash back where his friend Foggy says something about them being “Avocado's at Law.” so...that's why he referred to himself as an Avocado...just...clearing that up. 
> 
>  
> 
> TID-BIT:
> 
> Many gangs target homeless people as ways to make petty cash for their clans. 
> 
> In 2011 an article was made covering how some gangs targeted the homeless people over in the UK, turning them into "modern day slaves." 
> 
> Some gangs in the UK area were luring homeless, and people found in unfortunate circumstances, under the false pretense that they had work for them. They tricked their victims into accepting a free plane, train or bus ticket to another town where they were then drugged and relieved of their ID and any credit cards. They were held prisoner in small houses and forced to work and hand all their earnings over to the gang who threatened to harm them if they dared to make a run for it. 
> 
> Fortunately a few brave victims managed to escape and inform local authorities and the process to shut this cruel system down is under way. 
> 
> Another such instance of gang violence against the homeless happened in Sicily. 
> 
> A gang of Eleven thugs were arrested for using heavy weights to crush the bones of homeless people and stage fake car crashes so they could cash in on insurance payouts. They would bribe a homeless person, down on their luck, into accepting this deal, claiming they would give them a cut of the insurance money. However, the poor homeless person, who often times ended up in a wheel chair, was only given a tiny portion of what they were promised, or given nothing at all. 
> 
> One of the homeless people tricked into this scam actually died from his injuries when they broke his bones. Instead of stopping the whole operation, they used his corpse to stage a crash anyways.


	9. {...Yet So Far.}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Red comes together to bring down the Pyroclan once and for all, but Wade can't shake the feeling that they missed something. Meanwhile, Morris and Vernon question the clan members and everything changes.

It was a small cramped little shop that the three heroes found themselves in. Illuminated by flickering lights and bright neons. The music blaring through the speaker system did nothing to lighten the atmosphere as the store clerk shook behind the front counter. His wide eyes trailed over the three red clad men before him.

Spidey clenched his fists, wanting to get to the man before Daredevil had a chance to practice his methods of extracting information. Eyeing the phoenix tattoo on the clerks wrist reminded him why they were there and brought back a recollection of that flesh burning stench. He had to stay tough, the Pyroclan were psychotic murderers and nothing to pity.

“C-can I help you? I don't want any trouble.” The cashier stammered, raising his hands above his head. “I haven't done a thing, I have rights!” He shrieked as Daredevil leapt over the counter. This time Spidey was quick, throwing a fast web and restraining the thug before Matt had a chance to lay hands on him.

“I got this one, search for the basement entrance.” Peter instructed, waving for Matt to back off. Daredevil nodded before entering the back of the store. As Spidey made sure the clerk couldn't escape, Wade quickly followed the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, telling himself that somebody needed to keep the man in check.

[Are we really the guy for the job?] White huffed.

{Of course we are, Spidey wouldn't want Red Devil to beat anyone to death.}

“Daredevil.”

{That's what I said.}

[We are the last person on Earth with the right to stop Daredevil from beating the shit out of anyone. If we did, that would make us a hypocrite.] White was quick to remind them.

{But Spidey-} Wade lost his train of thought as Daredevil stopped abruptly in the back hall, cocking his head as if listening.

“There are four men...below us. They're watching TV.” He huffed before twisting the nob on the paint chipped door beside him. Wade cringed as the door squeaked open obnoxiously, but the blaring of the television down stairs drowned it out. The scent of cotton candy puffed up the corridor and engulfed their senses like a sugar cloud. The movie that was playing was so loud, in fact, that Wade easily recognized the film as it attacked his ear drums.

“...you better get down here. I think we've got something.” Wade snorted, hearing the scene in the movie “we've got something nice.” Immediately a song picked up, and Wade charged down the stairs, overcome by the beat of Moby's “Honey”.

{ _I LOVE A GOOD SONG TO KICK ASS TO_!} Yellow cheered as Wade leapt over the last few stairs. Startled yelps erupted from the basement while Wade drew his katanas and raised hell. Although he was only down there mere seconds before the other two heroes, he successfully managed to flip a sofa, knock over the TV, break a few ribs and cause one of the thugs to wet his pants. Daredevil was quick to join, flinging himself at the burliest Pyroclan member in the small space. The two tussled in a circle before Matt successfully pinned him against the wall, crushing the man's wind pipe against the bricks.

“Are you Curtis?” Matt spat in the thug's face, sending a quick jab into his ribs when he didn't respond. By now the three other gang members had been successfully webbed up and piled in a corner where Wade loomed over them, knives in hand.

“I-Iam!” The man finally bellowed back at Matt, managing to kick the hero off of him for a brief moment. They struggled again, but Daredevil was simply the stronger of the two. He slammed the gang leader against the wall again, earning a puff of cotton candy breath in his face. Matt snorted.

“For a gang of pyromaniac murderers you sure are a bunch of pansies. Hiding out down here with your Disney movies and candy flavored e-cigs.” Wade chuckled before kicking the leg of one of the bound men. “Not very murdery of you.”

“We aren't murderers you fuck.” One of the webbed men growled, managing to flick Wade off.

“Your gang is responsible for burning homeless people in the streets. How is that not murdering?” Spidey stepped in, hands on his hips like a disappointed parent.  
“I'm not telling you shit, bitch.” He hissed before spitting a wad of yellow snot at Spidey. Without a word Wade raised his foot and stomped it down roughly on the man's broken ribs, filling the tiny basement with an agonizing scream.

“Shutup Roy,” one of the smaller thugs pleaded, pants still uncomfortably damp. “You and Curtis are always getting us into stupid crap with your big mouths. I told you this was a bad idea, I told you this city was crawling with hero's.” He rambled on, nervous chattering getting the better of him. Roy couldn't answer, too busy biting his lip from the surge of pain rippling through him.

Matt growled from the opposite corner where he attempted to hold Curtis in a head lock while simultaneously smashing his elbow into the beefed up man.

“Where is the rest of you sick bastards? Out killing people as we speak?” Matt hissed.

“We don't kill people! We never killed nobody.” The twerp with the soggy britches retorted.

“You can deny the truth all you want, we'll let S.H.I.E.L.D deal with you.” Spider-Man frowned, pointing an accusing finger at the pile of gang members. Matt continued to wrestle in the corner.

“Honest to god, I swear on my mother's grave! We only burned dead carcasses. We were told to get rid of them and where they would be dumped and...” The boy stammered before he was elbowed by Roy.

“Shut up. What I tell you about snitches?” He panted, still trying to recover from Wade's attack.

“S-snitches get stitches or wind up in ditches and never end up with the bitches or riches.” He recited, fear shimmering in his eye.

“Ooooh, I'll have to remember that one.” Wade joked, winking at Spidey who brushed it off, now was hardly the time. The commotion from Daredevil and the gang leader seemed to die down as Matt finally got Curtis on the ground, pinned and subdued. There was no end to the slurs and bitter remarks from the Pyroclan as they realized their bitter defeat. It wasn't odd to Wade how they would insist their innocence, this wasn't his first rodeo, he knew the drill. Lying was a simple part of every thugs life, it came as naturally to them as breathing. However, he could sense the hesitance in Spidey. He watched how he eyed the youngest clan member, clearly shaken up by what he had said. He remembered a time when he too was once that innocent.

[Naive is more like it.]

He remembered wanting to believe the best about others, to find any proof that they weren't guilty, that it all wasn't as horrible as it seemed. Because, how could someone be so cruel? That was a piece of him he lost long ago, back in childhood, but Peter clung to it no matter how many times it backfired on him.

[Sometimes there isn't any good left to see in someone. It's just...all gone.] White grumbled.

{Spidey will find the good...he found the good in us.}Yellow reminded them, and Wade couldn't help but smile, despite their situation.

The sound of footsteps and voices above them snapped Wade away from his conversation with the boxes.

“It's Morris...and a cop.” Matt panted, blood dribbling down his chin and into the hair of Curtis who he was keeping pinned on the dirty basement floor. Sure enough, the excited S.H.I.E.L.D agent soon came flying down the stairs, gun in hand and a wide smile spread across his face.

“You guys did it!” He exclaimed, chucking a pair of cuffs at Daredevil.

“Help me get these guys upstairs. Wow this is just...” he folded his arms with pride, “Fury will be happy. Maybe I'll finally get that bonus.”

“Well, we were happy to help. New York is safer tonight.” Spider-Man nodded, hauling the gang member named Roy over his shoulder, who groaned in agony as his busted rib was jostled. It was a quick clean up. The Pyroclan was ushered in to Officer Vernon and Agent Morris' vehicles where they would be transported to S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters for further questioning. The vape shop was locked up and taped off until more agents could come down and look for further clues. Daredevil left the second Morris turned his back, ready to put the whole debacle behind him. And Wade found himself leaning against a nearby lamp post, silently watching as Spidey and Morris had one last conversation, going over the details of the mission.

[He looks relieved, like some stress has left him. Some...not all.] White noted as Wade kept a sharp eye on his baby boy. Peter's shoulder's weren't as tense and his tone wasn't as strained, that much was obvious. But Wade could see the way his back arched slightly from fatigue and how his hand twitched impatiently, ready to finally be done with the whole ordeal. His breaths were heavy sighs and his gestures were lazy and half hearted.

{He's just tired, all this crime fighting and no proper bed to sleep on. We did good tonight, HE did good tonight. Let's reward him. Take him back to our place, show him the bed...and other things.} Yellow giggled. {Hint...hint...}

[At least now we don't have to worry if he'll be attacked by the Pyroclan in his sleep. That's one less thing to stress about.]

“Doesn't make being homeless any less dangerous or any more relaxing.” Wade argued back.

[I was just trying to be positive for once, but whatever.]

Wade pushed himself off the poll when Peter looked up in his direction and waved farewell to Morris. Quickly he jogged over to meet the mercenary and Wade didn't doubt there was a wide smile plastered behind Spidey's mask.

“We did it!” He raised his arms in the air to celebrate their victory. Wade was going to high five one of Peter's lifted hands, but was left hanging when the hero all at once threw his arms around his neck and hung off him in a sloppy hug.

“Thank you.” he muttered, momentarily letting his head rest on Wade's shoulder. Deadpool froze, still as a statue. It wasn't until Peter made to let go that he realized he hadn't even hugged him back, just stood there awkwardly while Spidey pressed against him. He flinched, moving to raise his own arms and reciprocate the embrace, but it was too late and Peter had already turned away.

“I'm so glad this is all behind us. I really hate missions like this you know? So many people get hurt in the process and if you don't act fast enough, then sometimes it's just too late.” Spidey sighed.

“But it didn't turn out too bad. I'm actually surprised at how quickly we finished this. Most of my missions take months.” Wade shrugged.

{It was a quicky wasn't it...we could use another quicky with Spidey...a real quicky.}Yellow snickered at his own joke.

[Say quicky one more time, I dare you.] White growled out before adding, [It was over very fast though...kinda unbelievably fast.]

“What do you mean by that?” Wade whispered back.

[I mean think about it. They were able to avoid getting caught by the police and by S.H.I.E.L.D, but when we catch one of them...and rather easily, we are given their headquarters and solve the whole case in a matter of hours. It's almost like...we're missing something.] He reasoned. Wade bit his lower lip, hoping to god there wasn't more to the Pyroclan than met the eye, he had enough to figure out as it was.

He watched Spidey as the hero began to walk towards an alley, no doubt wanting to jump back in to patrolling. Wade hated the crushing burden of anxiety and frustration that followed every time he attempted to construct a plan to save his baby boy. But he was drawing blanks, coming up empty handed. He couldn't fathom a way to get him out of that dilapidated cold tent without confronting him and laying it all out on the table. He would have to tell him the truth, the truth about how he followed him, the truth that he learned his secret identity, the truth that he drugged him in order to sneak into his tent undetected.

[The list goes on.]

{If we're going to tell him all the horrible secrets we're keeping...let's tell him how much we absolutely love him while we're at it. Tell him how we think of him when we're lonely and about the photo of him from the newspaper you keep in your secret breast pocket. Tell him how he makes us want to be better.} Yellow suggested.

[That would only add insult to injury.]

{Agree to disagree you kill joy.}

“None of this is helping, if anything I think I feel a panic attack coming on.” Wade sighed, following the webbed wonder into the back alley and up a fire escape. He could figure it out, he knew he could, he just needed more time and better ideas.

However, even as the hours passed, and the hours turned to days, no helpful ideas made themselves known to the mercenary. It was three days after they had busted the Pyroclan and Wade was feeling like absolute human garbage. He sat on the metal bones of a new parking deck, just a few blocks from the city. His head rested in his hand while he waited for Spidey to be done in the construction site portable bathroom.

[So fuckin selfish, what is wrong with you? I guess there are some things you wouldn't do to keep Spidey safe.] White jabbed, and it was like a knife in his heart. [The nights are getting colder, you've seen his stupid tissue thin jacket. He's going to freeze to death and DIE! All because you were scared of jeopardizing your non existent relationship with him!] He hissed.

Wade held his hands over his ears, wishing he could block out the voices, they really weren't helping. He knew what he needed to do to save Peter, he knew he was an absolute dick for refusing to do it, but he was scared and had been holding on, hoping a way out would present itself.

{Not yet, there's got to be another way we can help him without screwing it all up.} Yellow said meekly, he knew it was a stretch but it was what Wade wanted to hear.

[Well you don't have any ideas, I don't have any ideas and the dipshit running the show sure as hell doesn't have any ideas.] White barked angrily. [You know what, I wash my hands of this. You two idiots do what you want.] and he went silent.

Around that same time, Spidey emerged from the small plastic out house. He spied Wade and quickly leapt onto the metal beam to join him.

“Ready?” He asked, eager to continue their patrolling. Wade gave a weak nod, silently wondering how many times Peter had been forced to use a porter potty now that he was homeless. He hated those things.

“Hey Spidey...” Wade cut the silence, his voice weak as he tried to figure out what exactly he even wanted to say next. Peter turned to look at him, eyes of his mask wide with anticipation.

“I think...” He inhaled sharply, chickening out at the last moment. “I should call it a night. I uh...I got some stuff I need to get sorted out and think about and there's just...a lot going on.” He sighed. Why did this feel like a break up? Despite it not being what he was even going to say, it still hurt.

{So close...}

“That's alright, same time tomo-” Spidey paused, the whites of his mask squinting as he looked off somewhere beyond Wade, somewhere in the distance. Then he tensed, suddenly, and shot a hand out to grab Wade's shoulder as if steadying himself.

“W-wade...” He whispered and the mercenary turned his head, one hand on his katana. At first he didn't see it, there was nothing around them but a quiet construction site, motionless equipment and dead concrete tubes. It was beyond the lot, past the neighboring buildings, against the sky line, barely visible. The small orange flicker of what could have been mistaken for a star at first glance, was dancing just on the roof of a condemned building. Yet the faintest twirl of smoke rising up into the sky gave it away, it was a fire.

“Wade....wade...” Peter's voice trembled and his grip tightened on the mercenary's shoulder. What little bit of safety he had felt, knowing the Pyroclan was off the streets and wouldn't be attempting to jump him in an alley, was instantly gone. They hadn't succeeded, they had missed something, this wasn't over.

“Hey, baby boy, chill out. You're ok.” Deadpool patted his hand on the hero's cheek, trying to draw his attention back on him and not the far off fire.

“But, the Pyroclan, we...what if..”

“We got them all and S.H.I.E.L.D handled the rest. It's probably just something else.” He assured him, managing to calm the webbed wonder from his potential freak out. Peter took a few deep breaths, avoiding looking at the flame any longer.

“You're right,” he finally answered, “but we should probably go see what it is.” he held his hand out, allowing Wade to climb on piggy back style before webbing off toward the tiny flame on the sky line.

“It's nothing, and after this we'll go home and figure this out for good.” Wade thought.

“It's nothing, it's just nothing, like Wade said. Nothing to worry about, it's ok...it's ok...” Spidey told himself as his nerves tried to creep up on him. Yet, as they drew closer, the blood curdling stench of singed hair, melting flesh and charred meat hit them like a train.

{Yup, that sure is a whole lot of nothing.}

 

 

* * *

 

 

The sound of boots clacking against a shiny marble floor echoed out through the empty hall. Morris felt his steps matching the rhythm of his racing heart. The once small Pyroclan file, that had grown massive with new information, was held snuggly against his chest. He squeezed it close, trying to prevent the many papers and evidence from spilling out. He needed it, all of it, for his meeting with Nick Fury, the meeting he was currently rushing to. He was already late.

His nerves were shot, especially after questioning the clan members. Sure the whole ordeal of them burning homeless people in the streets was bad, but it had somehow gotten worse. The web around this case was bigger than Morris had originally thought.

The soft vibrations of his cell went off in his back pocket, no doubt it was Fury calling to see where in the world he was. He fumbled the folder around in his other arm and awkwardly retrieved his phone. It was Vernon.

“Make it quick,” he answered, “I'm headed into an important meeting.” he muttered, pausing just outside the conference room door.

“Sorry man,” Vernon's muffled voice came through the line. Morris could hear him smacking his lips and speaking as if there was something obstructing his voice. “On my lunch break. I got some new info on that autopsy you ordered of that one homeless dude. They figured out the cause of death.” he swallowed.

“Oh, what was it? Send me the files of it too but just go ahead and tell me now.” he tapped his foot impatiently, hoping Fury couldn't hear him from inside the conference room.

“Well...it's kinda complicated. He was poisoned with some strange chemical mixture, but they weren't able to identify it. There were injection marks all over the body. Like he had been given several doses. Some of them were not as potent and were a few days old, they said. He'd been getting the shots for several days before he died from them.” Vernon explained before taking a bite of whatever else he had been munching on.

“So...what does that mean? The Pyroclan had been giving the homeless man lethal injections for days prior to his death and then what...decided to burn the evidence?” Morris thought aloud.

“Mph-maybe. Why though? Why bother injecting them if you're just going to burn them anyways? Why not just shoot them or stab them or burn them alive?” Vernon added, cramming his face even more.

“And they couldn't identify the chemical make up of the substances in his blood stream? Send me the samples, I'll have the S.H.I.E.L.D lab take a look at it.” Morris instructed. “You know when I individually questioned them, each of them insisted they had never killed anyone. Kept saying they were only burning bodies. Well...save for Curtis and Roy, they didn't talk the whole time, even wh-” he paused, catching a glimpse of his wrist watch. “I don't have time for theories Vernon! I have a meeting! I'll call you when I'm done!” He exclaimed before hanging up on the officer and cramming his phone back in it's rightful place beside his wallet.

Before anymore distractions could make him any later, Morris quickly entered the conference room. He was not the least bit surprised to find Fury at the end of the table, seated with his arms folded and sending him a one eyed glare.

“I have very important things to do, Mr. Moriss. But if you'd rather talk with your boyfriend over the phone instead of-”

“What!?” Morris dared to interrupt him. “He's not, never mind,” he heaved a sigh and shook his head, he deserved that. “Here is the evidence I've gathered.” he plopped the file down and slid it over to Fury.

“So it was the Pyroclan?”

“Well...I think they're partly to blame. They were found at the scene of the crime and confessed to burning the bodies. I just got some new information though. My source at the NYPD says-” Fury raised a hand to stop him.

“I heard, you weren't exactly quiet about it.” He pulled the file close and began to flip through it, scanning each document carefully. Finally he found a CD tucked in the folder. “What's this?”

“The camera footage of me questioning the clan members.” Morris answered. The CD was inserted into Fury's laptop and the two silently watched the camera footage. It wasn't too informative. The first hour or so was Morris and Vernon attempting to squeeze any information out of Curtis, the ring leader, but he answered them with blank stares and closed lips. Roy's questioning was very similar, the only thing that escaped him was the occasional insult and his hateful opinion of the two demanding answers from him.

The man Morris had retrieved from the roof was caught in a repetitive loop, insisting that he hardly new a thing about the gangs activities and had never killed anyone in his life. About thirty minutes in he fell into a sobbing mess and it was clear they weren't getting anything else out of him. And that's how the rest of their interviews went...until they finally brought in the last twerp.

“This one gave me some info.” Morris muttered, pulling a note pad from his pocket just in case he had missed anything earlier. Fury didn't move.

“What's your name?” Morris started the questions. The kid fidgeted awkwardly in his seat, fake determination plastered on his face. He was trying to put up a brave front.

“He asked what your damn name was!” Vernon shouted from the corner he had been leaning in. He rushed to the table and slammed his fists down aggressively. “You can keep quiet all you want, but I'll go ahead and tell you now, you aren't fooling us. None of your friends fooled us either. We got what we wanted out of them and we'll get it from you too.” the officer hissed. The kid was wide eyed, looking between Morris and Vernon before finally answering with trembling lips,

“T-Tray Jones.”

“Well Tray,” Morris motioned for Vernon to back off, “Spider-Man told me that you insisted you, or the rest of your friends, had never killed anyone, care to explain that to me?” Tray bit his lip, trying to hold his words in.

“No one except me and Officer Vernon will know what you confess. We won't tell anyone what you said. We just need to know the facts. You want to get out of here don't you?” Morris coaxed him.

“You won't see the light of day again if you are found guilty of murder, it's best to talk now.” Vernon growled.

“Ok...ok...” Tray panted, looking down at his knees as if ashamed. “We didn't ever kill no body. I swear it. We were hired to burn dead bodies. That's the truth, honest to god!” He exclaimed.

“Who was hiring you guys to do this? Were they paying you?” Morris began to write the information down.

“Yes we got payed, but I don't know who it was.”

“ _BULLSHIT_!” Vernon exploded, rushing to the desk where Tray's hands were cuffed. “How can you not know who was paying you? You think I buy that crap?” he spat.

“It's true!” Tray pleaded, flinching away from the aggressive officer. “We didn't know who it was. Curtis and Roy were the ones who told the rest of us what we would be doing. We received pay and instruction by mail. I don't know anything else I swear!” He was sobbing now, completely curling in on himself. The video dragged on from there but nothing of importance was ever revealed and soon the interview was over.

“Is he telling the truth?” Fury closed his laptop, turning to Morris.

“I think so. I mean, it's possible. We are currently investigating their property for any thing that could prove what Tray said. Maybe a letter with some instructions or a form of payment, something.”

“Have them keep an eye out for syringes or chemical mixtures. Those could prove them guilty.” Fury added. “If someone really did hire them, I want them brought here to the base. Can't risk anything happening to them, and I wouldn't mind asking them a few questions myself, especially this Troy.” He stood from his seat and slid the file back to the detective.

“Good work Mr. Morris, you seem to be on the right track to cracking this case.” he patted him once on the shoulder before leaving the detective alone in the conference room. Morris wanted to smile, wanted to be proud of the work he had accomplished, but it wasn't over. He had never been one to count his chicks before they hatched. There was still work to be done.

He reached for his phone, sliding to his contacts when the screen lit up with a call, it was Vernon again.

“Hey, I was just about to call you. Fury wants the Pyroclan turned over to his custody. Want's to question them. We think Troy may have been telling the truth and there might be someone else involved.” he explained.

“I think you're right...” Vernon's voice was gruff and serious. Morris paused.

“What were you calling me for?”

“...they're dead.”

“What!? Who?” Morris dropped the file on the table, papers spilling out and onto the floor.

“Curtis, Roy, Tray...all of them. I came back from lunch break and they had all hung themselves with their bed sheets. We're trying to look into it now but the surveillance footage...something happened to it. The boys seem real confused but I think we're looking at fowl play here.”

Morris had to sit back in his chair, cradling his head in his hand. This was terrible, and he couldn't possibly imagine how it could get any worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun....the plot thickens, supposedly. 
> 
> I'm super pumped to start working on the next few chapters, it's possible y'all might get two chapters this week since I don't have school on Monday ;P Would you guys want chapters 10 and 11 this week if I finish them? Or would you want me to distance them in case I'm unable to work on another one for a bit. I have a few projects coming up at the end of the month so who knows. Lol I'm really bad at planning this stuff out XD
> 
> ALSO, if you can figure out what movie the Pyroclan was watching...you get...idk bragging rights or something. 
> 
>  
> 
> Tid-Bit 
> 
>  
> 
> It's hard to research the circumstances that can lead to someone becoming homeless, everyone's story is different in it's own way. However, we do know that a lot of homeless people are actually missing persons who have a family somewhere currently looking for them. Fortunately, there are a few groups of kind hearted people whose sole goal is to reunite these homeless people with their families. However, there job isn't made easy when the missing homeless people go...missing. Double missing...
> 
> In 2016 a US Custom Agent committed suicide and left behind a note describing the secret plans of FEMA (supposedly). In his note he claimed that FEMA was abducting homeless people and sending them to camps. Allegedly FEMA was setting up mobile soup kitchens to attract the homeless.The next day a white van would show up with no registration, tags and tented windows. People wearing blue jumpsuits would emerge front the vans and "round up" the homeless people that had been attracted to the area. They would then be taken to an internment camp that would soon be turned into a prison. The letter claims there are over 800 of these scattered across the country. The government agent claimed that the secrets were too much for him, and the guilt was what led to his suicide. 
> 
> Only a year after this conspiracy surfaced, the locals of Salt Lake City noticed the abrupt disappearance of hundreds of homeless people who had been seen regularly sleeping in one area in the city. The disappearance of these people was so obvious, in fact, that the local police searched by land and helicopters for the missing homeless people. They were never found. 
> 
> Homeless people go missing off the streets all the time. Surely there are numerous reasons behind these disappearances, but is it possible that our own government is "human street sweeping"? Their actions are definitely questionable, especially after they began banning donations to the homeless in many cities across the country. In some towns in California, the local government even made it illegal for homeless people to sleep in the suburb areas, pushing them into rural places. (after claiming a homeless grill was responsible for starting a forest fire. This was later debunked). 
> 
> Although these are nothing but theories, we can't deny that the missing people had to have gone somewhere. Art imitates life, so should we even be surprised by the crazy comic like "evil" organizations rumored to exist amongst us? Food for thought...maybe.


	10. ...Does it Even Make a Sound?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Wade find themselves in a rooftop crisis and White questions Deadpool on how far Peter has to break before he finally saves him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 As promised, new chapter out before the weekend. Enjoy! ;P

Wade squeezed Peter closer, feeling the hero trembling against him as they swung down to the roof. The mercenary knew it wasn't the cold that had his baby boy shaking, it was the fire engulfing the burning body that had just come into view.

{This isn't good.} Yellow's voice was low, White still refused to comment.

“But...I-I thought...” Peter stammered as he gingerly landed on the parapet, as far away from the body as possible. Before he had the chance to finish his sentence, the stench, along with a quick shot of panic, overcame him and he desperately tried not to dry heave. His hand shot over his nose and he swallowed the urge to gag that rose in him. Wade was quick to comfort him, reassuringly rubbing his hand in small circles across the hero's back while calmly insisting things would be just fine.

“Hey, it's alright. We'll get this sorted out, don't look at it, I'll deal with it.” He used his other arm to guide Peter away so he was leaning on the parapet and gazing out at the city. Peter would have stayed and gladly let Wade snuff the flames, but a sudden sting of pain shot through his Spidey senses and he whirled around instantly and shoved Deadpool to the ground.

Wade hardly had time to register what was going on when he caught the glimpse of a knife zipping through the air just above his head. In a flash Peter had skillfully caught the weapon by the hilt, right before it could tear through his own suit. Immediately Wade was on his feet, katana's drawn as he crouched between his Petey pie and the body.

“Come out where we can see you.” Spidey barked, biting back his bubbling anxiety. He stepped back until he was pressed against the mercenaries shoulder blades and they carefully scanned all possible angles of attack.

“On your left!” Peter suddenly shouted as he leapt into the air for safety just as the sound of a gun rang out through the night. Wade skilfully turned his blades, slicing the bullets that sped towards him like they were made of butter. He whipped his own gun from his belt with his free hand and fired blindly into the darkness in the direction the attack had come from.

“Don't kill!” Peter was quick to remind him.

“I'll just shatter their knee caps.” Wade ground out angrily, and was surprised when his baby boy made no rejection. However, it was possible the comment went unnoticed as he was suddenly bull dozed by a flash of black and silver, slamming him to the ground before disappearing back into the shadows of night.

“W-what the..?” Peter gasped, holding his side where he had been roughly trampled. He pushed himself up just in time to see whatever had hit him headed right for him again. He leapt to the side and shot a web at it, missing by a hair, he was just a fraction too slow.

The blur of color just barely nicked him, slicing a tear in his suit and a small cut in his side. Peter quickly backflipped onto a vent box, wincing at the irritating sting in his side. Luckily it hardly scratched a few layers of skin and only a dribble of blood was visible.

“It's got to have some sort of powers.” He shouted down to Wade who was shooting at the figure darting through the shadows.

“I thought as much, they're managing to dodge all my bullets!” Wade called back. Spidey watched carefully as Wade's bullets zipped through the air towards the mysterious blur. They had no effect on the attacker, but the mercenary wasn't missing. The bullets collided with it and pinged off, ricocheting into random directions. One whizzed past Peter's head as he dodged just in time.

“No, you're getting them but the bullets just bounce right off.” Peter shouted back. With the super fast blur distracted Spidey leapt into the air and used both his web shooters to try and subdue the enemy. But again he narrowly missed as the attacker raced out of the shadows and headed straight towards Wade.

“Screw it!” The mercenary shouted, throwing his gun at the blur before unsheathing his katana's, Bae and Arthur. “Maximum Effort!” He cried, twisting into a spin attack. Unfortunately his fancy footwork did not pay off and was easily dodged by the speeding assailant who left a wound similar to Peter's, but much deeper. Wade hissed angrily as his blood drooled from the gash in his side and splattered over the ground.

“They're too fast, I've got to web their feet or something.” Peter thought aloud as he vaulted across the roof and tried to corner the fast moving blur. Again he failed to land a web on the thing and it doubled back towards Wade again. This time the mercenary stood his ground and swung his swords to attack from the left, trying his best to make it an obvious move. When the blur dodged right Wade dropped his katanas and tripped the attacker with a leg sweep.

A loud crack echoed over the roof as Wade's shin collided and successfully stopped the speedy suspect. As the figure slid over the rough surface of the roof and crashed to a halt against the air vent box, Peter could make out the features of a dingy looking elderly woman with grey scraggly hair and a now broken nose. Peter instantly recognized her as one of the homeless women from his tent city under the bridge. It was the woman who managed the fire barrel and disappeared around the same time Josh had gone. Instead of her ratted up coats and pants, she was donning a black and silver jumpsuit and combat boots, decked out with knives. She had a wild glint in her eye that had not been there before and immediately he knew something was not right with her. Peter saw her gaze trail over to the gun she had dropped and he quickly shot a barrage of webs at it, safely pinning it to the roof.

“Wade no!” Peter managed to shout as the mercenary suddenly hobbled over, katana pointed at the woman's throat. He leaned on his left leg, his right one visibly broken as his foot and lower calf dangled almost loosely.

“She's just an old woman, look at her, she must be under some sort of mind control. We shouldn't hurt her. I'll just web her up.” He raced over, quickly shooting a web at her arms. The woman's eyes widened with fury and she instantly sprang alive. She barrel rolled out of the line of fire and grabbed Wade's right ankle, tugging him roughly to the ground.

“ARGH!” Wade growled in pain as his broken calf was yanked. Despite his shout of discomfort, the woman refused to let him go. She bounced to her feet like a young rabbit and whipped the mercenary through the air, showing the strength of a super soldier rather than a feeble old woman. She used Deadpool like a bat and swung him into Spider-Man before letting him go. The two heroes toppled to the ground in a heap.

“Wade, your leg-” Peter panted, slipping out from under the mercenary as gently as possible.

“I'm alright, I've had much much worse.” He chuckled, managing to push himself up and stand on one foot like a flamingo.

“Can you even fight with your leg like that though?” Spidey winced, trying not to stare at how his foot was almost hanging completely backwards.

“Thirty minutes tops and I'll be right as rain. But I'm sure you'll have this in the bag way before that.” He gave a thumbs up as Peter leapt back into action after noticing the woman retrieve one of Wade's swords off the ground. By now Peter had figured that close combat was the key to winning this fight. If she had the opportunity to run circles around them then they would be at this forever, he had to keep her cornered. The minute he had the chance to get a web on her, he would be taking it.

Quickly he threw himself at her, dodging as she tried to swing Bae into his shoulder. He attempted another leg sweep on her, but she flipped away from him, hoping to gain distance. He was hot on her trail before she suddenly changed directions, moving fast as before and darted towards him in a blur. His Spidey sense gave him enough warning that he was able to catch Bae's blade between his hands as she swung it down towards his head. The force of the attack brought him to his knees, and she was using all her strength to keep him there. But she wasn't stronger than Peter and he managed to struggle back to his feet.

However, the small victory was short lived when she abruptly let go of the sword with one hand and ripped her own knife from her belt and stabbed it through the hero in the same place she had previously nicked him. Peter had tried to dodge, to move away slightly, but her movements were lightning fast. The blade sliced through his side, and scraped across his rib bone, cutting nothing but muscle. Peter screamed, falling onto his back and turning just enough so the katana didn't tear him another one. His side throbbed as warm blood soaked into his suit and smeared across the roof while he tried to push himself away. The woman followed him slowly, eyes twitching as her grip tightened on her weapons. Peter had to do it now, had to shoot a web or, something. He raised his wrist but missed the shot as a blur of red tackled the woman to the ground in an angry shout.

Peter took the opportunity to hoist himself up, whimpering at the nauseating surge of pain that shot through his side. Wade tussled on the ground with the woman, managing to land a few blows to her face. She was unfazed, keeping the same blank stare as a tooth flew from her mouth. This time he could do it, he could land the shot. The moment she raised her arm, wielding the small blade to attack the mercenary, Peter shot a web onto her wrist, and then another, pinning her arm to the ground.

“Wade stop, I-I got her!” Spidey shouted as the mercenary attempted to pummel her brains clean out. Wade eyed the webbing on her arm and heaved a sigh of relief before barrel rolling off of her and out of the way. She made to stab him through with his katana but he had already gotten out of reach.

“Hurry up and web her all the way before she throws that at one of us.” Wade panted, still favoring his broken leg. He hobbled over to his other sword, retrieving it off the ground.

[Don't give her ideas, jack ass.] White huffed.

“R-right.” Peter's voice shook, every breath stung, jarring his wound, but it was over now. After webbing her up he could hobble back to his tent and find a way to bandage himself up...somehow. Quickly Peter flicked his wrist down to fire a web at her other arm, but nothing happened. He tried again, still no web shot out. Panic began to settle in as he tried with his other web shooter, only for it to be completely out of web fluid as well.

“I-i'm out.” He stammered, totally stunned. The thought hadn't even occurred to him that without an income for supplies, he would eventually run out of webbing.

“What?” Wade cocked his head, limping back over to stand beside the woman, just out of reach of the blade.

“I-I don't have anymore web fluid...I'm out.” His voice was beginning to crack, realizing the gravity of it all. Without his webs he couldn't swing around New York, he couldn't fight the same...he couldn't be Spider-Man. “I'm out of webs!” He exclaimed, grabbing his head as anxiety overtook him and he fell to his knees.

[You idiot.]

{Go to him! He's freaking out!}

[I told you. We should have helped.]

Wade moved to run to Spidey but was subdued when the woman swung the sword and hacked her own arm off in one slice. She rolled to the right, bringing the katana with her and sending the blade through Wade's left shin, clean through the bone and out the other side, severing it. Unable to hold his weight on his busted legs, the mercenary fell forward, landing on Bae, driving the blade straight through his abdomen. He collapsed onto the roof in a bloody gurgle.

[Get up idiot, we've stayed conscious through much worse. We've literally been ripped in two, bit in half and blown up and still managed to stay awake.] White growled as Wade battled with light headedness and blurry vision.

{Spidey! _Spidey!_ **_SPIDEY!_** } Yellow freaked, as the woman charged for the defeated hero. Wade took a deep breath and rolled onto his side, yanking Bae out of his guts. He struggled to his knees just as the woman grabbed his baby boy by the neck, and flung him kicking and shouting off the edge of the roof.

{His web shooters don't work! Wade! **_WADE!}_** Yellow was screaming in his head, voice clouding his thoughts. The mercenary felt what little blood he had left beginning to boil.

[Kill her. Kill her. Kill her] White seethed. Wade saw red, numb to reality and pain. He pushed himself up onto his right foot, only partially healed, struggling with every ounce in him to stay standing. His muscles shook with rage while he stared down the crazed woman standing between him and rescuing Peter. Pent up self loathing and guilt coursed through him like an adrenaline rush and he could feel his healing factor working over time. The gaping gash in his side was beginning to seal and his right leg was snapping into place.

The woman had her full attention on the mercenary now, unfazed by the stream of crimson spurting from her shoulder. Her eyes were glossy and unfeeling, foam began to dribble from her bruised lips. Wade didn't care, didn't even hardly notice.

He launched himself forward into a side flip, using the momentum to fling Arthur through the air at bullet speed. The Adamantium blade pierced through her easily, stopping as the hilt rammed against her other shoulder. The force of the attack sent her hurtling backwards until the katana sticking through her made contact with the parapet, pinning her against it like a thumb tack. Wade limped towards her, Bae clenched tight in his grip, he was going to end this.

Before he could get closer, the woman suddenly shrieked, eyes rolling back in her head as she began to convulse violently. Frothy spit and yellow vomit spilled down her chin, puddling beneath her. A trail of blood ran from her nose and over her lip and she suddenly stopped, eerily still as a heavy exhale escaped her and she finally sagged against the blade, motionless. Her head lulled to the side and Wade felt his muscles loosen, she was dead.

{Spidey...} Yellow sobbed and Wade's heart rose like a lump to his throat.

“No no no no no.” He muttered, dropping his katana and practically flinging himself against the parapet to look down to the alley bellow. Relief overtook him when he saw Spider-Man only a story down, lying on the roof of a smaller balcony jetting from the building. He was curled in the fetal position with one hand holding the gaping wound on his side, the other cradling his head as he silently sobbed and trembled.

“Spidey!” He called out, crawling over the parapet and letting himself drop to the balcony bellow. He landed with a grunt, hearing the all too familiar sound of one of his ribs cracking, but he brushed it off. Still missing the bottom half of his left leg, Wade hobbled towards the hero, falling to his knees beside him.

“It's ok. She can't hurt you anymore.” Wade assured him, slowly pulling Spidey closer until his head was resting in the mercenaries lap. Immediately Peter reached out and gripped Deadpool's belt, clutching to it tightly as he tried to pull himself even closer. His eyes were squeezed shut and he could hardly breathe through the fluttering sobs and crushing anxiety that had his stomach doing flips. The throbbing pain in his side and hip, where he had landed funny, wasn't doing anything to help him calm down.

“W-wade...” was all he could manage through broken breathes, fist clinching his utility belt.

“What hurts? Tell me what hurts.” He frantically tugged Spidey's mask up so it rested on his nose, and Peter quickly gulped in air.

[His side dumb ass. It's gaping open. He needs medical attention now!] White shouted, he was right, as usual.

“H-hip, and...” Peter grunted as he tried to roll to better show his wounds, “my side it...”

“Let's get you to the hospital and-”

“ _No!_ ” Peter panted. “I can't go to a hospital...my identity...and I can't pa-” he stopped, biting his lower lip. He couldn't afford hospital bills, couldn't even pay for insurance. He didn't even own a bandaid, let alone the tools to fix himself up. And now he had no web fluid, he was as good as dead.

“Wade...” he broke into a pained sob, unable to even bring himself to ask for help, despite how in need he was. He had already lost so much, his identity was all he had left.

“No no no it's ok baby boy. I'm here, I've got you. Let me help you I can dress this nasty cut and you'll be fit as a fiddle.” He carefully slid the web slinger's head out of his lap and cradled it gently in his hand as he dug through his utility belt. He retrieved a curved needle, nylon thread, forceps, a rag and a small bottle of disinfectant. This wasn't his first rodeo, and carrying around a small medical kit was a habit he had formed way before his healing factor. More often than not, he was glad to have it.

Peter fidgeted nervously when Wade slowly peeled up the top half of his suit, careful not to jar him too much as he pulled it over his head. He folded the ripped suit and placed it under Spidey's temple, cushioning it against the cold hard roof. He then removed his leather holster and handed it to the hero.

“Here, put this in your mouth, you'll want to bite on it.” He instructed. Peter nodded, slipping the holster between his lips and turning his head, unable to watch as Wade prepped the needle. He gripped the mercenaries belt again, readying himself.

The sting from the rag cleaning his wound was enough to make him flinch and whine, biting down hard on the leather holster.

{Don't hurt him, he's in pain.} Yellow pleaded.

[He's helping him, he has to stitch him up.] White reminded the other box.

“Shutup, I need to concentrate.” Wade hissed back. He placed the first stitch and tried to ignore the pitiful whimpers that escaped Spidey as his skin was tugged and forced closed. Wade did his best to hurry, but it felt like a life time for Peter. When the process was finally over Peter had practically bitten a chunk out of the holster and the ache of his busted hip was nothing compared to the 65 irritated sutures in his side.

Wade finished wrapping the wound with gauze before helping the hero back into the top half of his suit, it was too cold to go without it...despite how much Wade enjoyed looking at his Spidey's smooth abs and pecs.

“Thank you.” Peter sighed, surprising the mercenary as he pulled himself back into his lap. “C-can I be selfish for a minute?” he whispered, closing his eyes as he tried to fight back more tears. He felt like a fool for letting himself get so badly hurt. He was an idiot to not check his web fluid. In the end it was all his fault, he had failed to keep his job, his home, and to keep himself safe. Maybe he deserved every bit of what he got.

“What do you mean?” Wade's voice was low, keeping their conversation hushed and away from the world. He let one hand rest on Peter's cheek, cupping it as he turned the hero's head to look up at him. Big bubbly tears seeped from under his mask and dripped down his chin and it was all Wade could do but wipe them away with his gloved thumb. “I know it still hurts but give me time for my leg to heal and I can get you some pain med-” he paused as Peter shook his head.

“It's not that.” he croaked, voice cracking, “I just...I can't. I can't tell you, but please...” he reached up and looped an arm around Wade's middle, pulling himself closer to the mercenary so his head rested against his hip. “Please just...stay with me for a while.”

[Is this enough for you now? How much more does he have to break?]

“O-of course.” Wade responded to Peter, running his hand up and down his shoulder. He wanted to do so much more. Wanted to tug off Spidey's mask and run his fingers soothingly through his acorn brown hair. Wanted to kiss his trembling lips and scoop him up, carry him away to safety. But the hero resting in his lap, whimpering and sniffling as he battled with the hardships life had given him, was already so broken. He feared if he acted now, told him that he knew, he may just break Peter for good.

[It won't break him, you know that good and well. It will only break you.]

{He is literally crying and lying in our lap, begging us not to leave, and to sit with him for a little bit. How can you not be moved to act upon this?} Even Yellow was on board. Wade didn't answer, didn't even want to think about their questions. It hurt too much and stung more than any wound he had received that night. Instead he inhaled slowly, coughing at the stench of burnt flesh and ash still lingering in the air. He blocked out the boxes, blocked out the smell and the fact that he still had to contact S.H.I.E.L.D about the mess on the roof above him. He let it all slip from his mind and focused all his attention onto Spidey, his hero in need. His heart swooned over the way Peter clung to him, as if trying his best from keeping the mercenary from walking away. He could tell Petey was really thinking, contemplating his life outside of Spider-Man. Perhaps...perhaps Peter would realize how much help he needed and just talk to Wade, tell him everything and then the mercenary wouldn't have to ruin it all in order to save him. But the words never left the web slinger's lips.

Instead, poor Petey whispered soft apologies into the night air, snuggling himself closer into Wade's hip as if hoping the mercenary could somehow forgive him for being such an absolute screw up.

“I'm just a burden like this,” he muttered, burying his face against the leather of Wade's suit. “I can't help you, or Daredevil, or S.H.I.E.L.D solve this problem, not anymore.” he hiccuped, throat soar from all the sobbing.

“No, never. You're not a burden baby boy.” Wade assured him. The heat radiating off Deadpool was the only comfort Peter found in the dark cold world. That, and the gentle hands that raked up his arm and over his back, soothing him into just submitting. He bit his bottom lip, stopping the confession, all the confessions for the third time that night. “Can I just be selfish for a second?” He had asked, but never finished what he wanted to say.

Now, after Wade had run to his side despite his own injuries, and stitched him up, and held him safely as he calmed his heart and racing thoughts, now he could imagine telling Wade. Telling him everything. How he was down on his luck and sleeping in a tent, tell him how some time ago he had began to view the mercenary in a warmer light, and if circumstances were different than maybe their relationship would be too.

His guts wanted to spill out for the mercenary, wanted to reveal it all not matter what Wade would think. Even if he was a burden on his friend, asking him for support during his lowest point, couldn't he be selfish...just for a second?

His insecurities won out and he took in a shaky breath as he loosened his grip on Wade's middle.

“I should...go...” He sighed, trying to push himself up into a sitting position.

“Wait are you sure, you should rest with a wound like that. Moving around will only upset it.” Wade tried to get Spidey to come back to him, to be content in his arms for one more second. But the hero had already managed to his feet and was looking up at the lingering trail of smoke that flitted into the night sky.

“What about you?” He asked, looking down at the mercenary whose lower left leg was still missing. “How are you going to get home? Also...will you be able to call Morris about all that?” He pointed back up to the roof. He avoided asking what had happened to the woman, if she had been subdued, if she escaped...or if he had killed her. He didn't want to know, didn't want to think about it.

“Nah I'll be alright, my leg will be back before you know it. You go and get some rest, I'll call S.H.I.E.L.D.” Wade waved him on.

[No you idiot, what are you doing? Invite him to our place.]

“Our place is a trash hole, he'd probably get an infection if he came over.” Wade silently argued back.

[And he won't get an infection sleeping in a dirty old ripped tent under a bridge? How is that any better? At least he'll be out of the cold with us.]

{Yes let's bring him back to our place and continue where we left off.} Yellow agreed. But Wade made no action to stop Spidey as he walked to the edge of the roof, grabbed the wall and stuck to it, crawling downwards like the adorable spider he was.

[God, I fucking hate you so much.] White hissed bitterly. Wade grunted,

“Me too.” Then he let his head flop down, sprawling out like a starfish on the roof. He watched the dark sky above as it was clouded by swirling gray smoke. By now he had gone nose blind to the stench of burning flesh and he desperately wished his other senses were capable of numbing themselves to the ongoing pain of guilt he felt.

{Did you hear him? He thought he was a burden to us...wonder if that's the real reason he hasn't told us, and not because he doesn't want us to know his identity.} Yellow sighed sadly.

“But he's not a burden, he's the exact opposite. He makes me feel light hearted and weightless.” Wade cooed, managing to smile through the pain.

[Well he sure as hell doesn't know that. What have we done to make him think that he's not a burden? The truth is going to get out one day, he'll find out eventually that you know his secret identity. Wouldn't it be much worse if he found out years from now? Found out that you knew he was going through struggles, that you knew he was homeless and did absolutely nothing to help? That would really show him how much of a burden you thought he was, huh?] He sneered. Wade's smile faded instantly.

“I...I would never want him to think that.”

{Yeah...but how can he find out about our little secret years from now...if he doesn't even live that long? You saw that nasty cut, and he said his hip was bothering him too. How much longer before he starves to death? What if that wound get's infected like you said? Winter is here and it won't be long before the first snow fall, how would you like to find him frozen in some back alley?} Even Yellow was angry now, he had moved past his sorrowful pleas.

[You don't really love him.]

“Shutup! Yes I do!” Wade sat up, grabbing his head and squeezing, why was he still fighting this?

{This isn't love.}

[You've been selfish, for far too long.] Wade couldn't take another second, he ripped off his own mask and chucked it against the wall with an angry roar. He knew he had been selfish, he knew he had been scared and stupid.

“Can't I just be selfish for a second?” He recalled hearing Peter ask him as he clung to him. It was an indirect cry for help, Wade could see that. Those cold tears, trembling lips and soul wrenching sobs played back in a loop in his mind. The need to do something, anything, to save his Petey pie, pushed out that fear of losing him...and he let go. It didn't matter anymore, none of it. The only thing that mattered was saving his baby boy, one way or another, no matter the cost.

Determined, he struggled to his foot, retrieved his mask and parkoured his way back to the rooftop. It was a gruesome scene, blood painted the cement in random spurts and drops like a piece of abstract art. Guns and knives were scattered around. And the two homeless corpses were the nails in the coffin. Things were messy.  
Wade collected his own weapons, katana's included before retrieving his phone and leaving the detective a very detailed text about the location of the bodies and the events that transpired. Then he muted the conversation, talking to S.H.I.E.L.D agents was the last thing he wanted to do that night.

[I hope you actually have a plan this time that doesn't inconvenience everyone around us.] White grumbled. A sly smile crept onto the mercenaries face as he scaled the fire escape down and limped into the streets.

“Operation rescue Spider-Man is a go!” He exclaimed, feeling excitement bubble in him for the first time in a long while. As he hobbled into the Mandarin Oriental hotel lobby, he couldn't help the flutter of anticipation that plagued his heart. He could imagine the look on his Petey pie's face when Wade brought him back here. It didn't matter if Peter didn't want him to be there, didn't matter anymore if he didn't ever want to speak to the mercenary ever again. Just the thought of how relieved and overjoyed Spidey would be when he walked into the King Suite was enough to keep him motivated.

However his cheery mood was quickly killed when the receptionist nearly fainted at the sight of him. It wasn't every day a leather clad, mask wearing mercenary, with bleeding wounds and a severed leg, hopped into the hotel demanding the best suite money could buy while waving around stacks of Benjamins. After security was called, wrestled and defeated by the one legged man, management arrived, and Wade was finally given the room he asked for. When he forked over a hundred thousand in cash, the manager was all too happy to scold the frightened receptionist and personally escort “Mr. Wilson” to his room.

“Your checkout date is 25 days from today.” The manager had informed him upon leaving Wade to enjoy his suite with the best view of Central Park.

[So you got a deluxe hotel room...now what?] White grumbled as Wade did his best not to stain the tile floor crimson.

{O.M.G. Look at that awesome living room! And that round looking couch! I bet the tub here is massive and has jets and everything! Don't get me started on the shower! Let's see the master bedroom! Imagine all the things we could do with Spidey here! This was by far the best call!}Yellow chittered on and on, making sure Wade was aware of all the sexy things they could do to pass the time.

[Yeah but we have to get him here first.] White reminded them. Wade quickly left the the hotel, refusing to give himself a chance to chicken out. Spidey had been in the streets too long and this was long over due.

By the time Wade finally arrived to the bridge where the Tent City used to be, it was well past midnight and slowly creeping into the morning hours. The streets were quiet, the wind was calm, but all was not well with the world. The same dread Peter had felt when he spied that small flame only hours ago, Wade was experiencing it now. Except it wasn't just dread, it was rage, fear, utter heart break. All he saw were those damned red hot flames, burning his world to the ground, and Peter's tent along with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Jk, that was mean...sorry. 
> 
> If you want to scream at me go ahead, I already got an earful from my Beta reader, I can take it XD
> 
> I feel like I should point out that I took the liberty of assuming that Wade's katana's are made of Adamantium. In the X-men Origins of Wolverine (literal worst representation of Wade, sry lol.) The swords in his arms are made of Adamantium. And although in the comics they never really tell you what his swords are made of, they do hint around that they are special. I mean, in the Spider-Man vs. Deadpool comics he's able to cut through Spidey's webbing even after Peter told him that a normal knife can't cut it. So I just decided to go with Adamantium for this fic. Just seemed to make sense. 
> 
> TID-BIT
> 
> What would you do for money if you found yourself in a desperate situation? ("Would you steal a loaf of bread to feed your starving family?" kind of question.)
> 
> As I've mentioned before, someone suffering from homelessness might turn to begging or find themselves trapped by others into taking up harmful jobs with the promise of pay. But what if they knew it was harmful? What if they were completely willing to put their body through stress and pain just for the chance at some cash? 
> 
> In cities like Philadelphia, where the homeless population sky rockets, it isn't hard to find a homeless person who hasn't been used as a lab rat for drug testing. The sad thing about it is that they are 100% willing to sign up and take experimental medicine if promised money. I'm sure you've heard the list of side effects most medical drugs cause when the commercial narrator reads through them at lightning fast speed. (Nausea, fatigue, blood thinning, hallucination, diarrhea, flu like symptoms, fever, chills, trouble breathing, sever migraines, high blood pressure, etc. The lists always go on). How do they know what these side effects are? Well they figure them out in testing. 
> 
> That may seem harmless enough, they've got to test drugs somewhere right? But are the city streets really the place to do it? On people who are only taking the deal because they are down on their luck? How much would they have to pay you to be the medicine lab rat? Most of these test only pay $40-$50. The drug study recruits know to look for the desperate and often park outside of shelters to speak with homeless going in and out. 
> 
> It only gets worse with Addiction Treatment Studies. A lot of homeless people will start taking drugs just so they can qualify for the testing and get payed. Things like this used to be unethical, offering payment to a vulnerable person in exchange for them to compromise their own health.


	11. Red Dead Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unable to get in contact with Deadpool or Spider-Man, Morris turns to Daredevil for help tracking down more clues to unravel this mystery once and for all. However, their search leads them to a horrific discovery which causes Morris to question his ability to solve the case. 
> 
>  
> 
> (SURPRISE! Got this up before Wednesday :)

Photos covered the interior of Morris' car like barnacles on the under side of a ship. He carried the pictures everywhere, constantly scanning each one a million times, what was he missing? He was parked in a vacant parking deck, studying his newest crime scene portraits. The woman he found slumped against the wall, and the charred body burned beyond recognition, how did they play into this? It was beyond obvious now that the Pyroclan had been telling the truth, they were only following orders. But from who?

Morris whipped out his cell phone again, messaging Wade Wilson for the millionth time since the mercenary had left him that odd text.

“Had a run in with a crazy lady. Tried to kill us and burned a homeless body. Left her on the roof for you.” After that he had included the address. Morris had raced over, accompanied by Officer Vernon, but the heroes were nowhere to be found. The scene they had left behind wasn't like them. Dried blood puddles doused the roof and the woman's arm had been severed off, along with what Morris assumed was Deadpool's left foot.

“Answer dammit!” Morris hissed as he skimmed over his dozens of texts back to the mercenary. They hadn't even been read. He had also called and left countless voicemails, still there was no response. It had been five days now.

The S.H.I.E.L.D agent was desperate for more information on what had happened that night, it was crucial. Without anymore leads to follow, he needed every bit of information he could get. The only thing he had learned was that the woman's autopsy had the same trace drug in it as the other body they had found. Still, the scientists back at the S.H.I.E.L.D labs were unable to identify what it was or what it even did.

He quickly gathered up his many pictures and stuffed them in his overflowing Pyroclan file. He had spent the past five nights driving through the city looking for any sign of Deadpool or Spider-Man, but he was showing up empty handed. It was odd, he thought, usually they were quite easy to find with their nightly patrols of Manhattan. It was as if they had vanished, and even the public was beginning to notice.

“Spider-Man taking a break?” Was the headline of the morning paper. The article delved into what possible vacation spots the webbed wonder had ventured to for the winter. While New York may have found it amusing that the hero wasn't patrolling as usual, Morris couldn't help but feel like maybe something had happened.

It was nearing midnight, and a full blood moon had risen over Hell's Kitchen. Morris' search had brought him to that familiar side of town, but still not a hero could be found. The poor detective was beginning to feel discouraged and tired, ready to call it a night. The red flickering neons of a nearby bar caught his attention and he was suddenly aware of how dry his mouth felt.

“I could definitely use a drink.” He grumbled as he parked outside of Josie's Bar, standing under the crimson light for a moment. He checked his phone one last time, still no response, and walked into the humble bar with a huff.

The S.H.I.E.L.D agent kept to himself as he took a seat at the counter and ordered a drink from the tatted bar tinder. She snorted at his suit, grumbling to herself about lawyers always bringing trouble to her establishment. Morris ignored her comment and downed his drink quickly.

He hated the feeling of desperation that swirled in him. He didn't know how he was going to solve this case, didn't know what he would do if he couldn't. His title of “S.H.I.E.L.D Detective” would surely be tarnished and he imagined he would never be given a case ever again.

The sudden outburst of giddy laughter snapped him from his brooding, and he curiously turned to see who could possibly be so happy on a night like tonight, and how dare they spread their cheeriness while he was trying to sulk?

“Cheers!” A beaming man at a small round table held up his glass to his two drinking companions. He was accompanied by a pale strawberry blonde woman and a man Morris immediately recognized from his red glasses and white cane.

“Nelson, Murdock and Page.” The man exclaimed.

“Justice never stops.” The woman added before all three of them took a drink. Morris hurried over to their table, throwing his manners completely out the window.

“Mr. Murdock!” He interrupted them as he approached the blind lawyer. The woman gave him a quizzical look, before turning to Matt for an explanation.

“Detective Morris...are you following me now?” He laughed, but the strong grip he placed on Morris' shoulder was anything but friendly.

“A detective? Do you work for the NYPD? I don't think we've met.” The other man offered his hand, “Foggy Nelson, lawyer at Nelson, Murdock and Page.”

“Uh, Detective Morris. Yes I've worked with them before but I-”

“What brings you to our table?” Matt interrupted, clearly not amused with the S.H.I.E.L.D agent. Morris scratched the back of his head sheepishly, as if just realizing how rude he had been.

“Ah well...I wasn't looking for you per say...but I could use your help.” He tried to explain without being too obvious.

“Well lucky for you we just finished our latest job and are more than happy for your business.” Foggy smiled, taking another swig of his drink.

“Ah, no...I don't need a lawyer-uh...I need uhm,” he looked back at Matt trying to figure out how to ask for the Devil of Hell's kitchen without giving his identity away.

“Does he know?” Karen leaned across the table, whispering to Matt. The blind lawyer nodded, a frown settling on his face.

“S.H.I.E.L.D agents love to stick their noses into people's business.” He added. Morris stiffened, shushing the lawyer.

“Hey, not cool.” Morris grumbled, looking around to make sure there weren't any eager ears listening in. The place was mostly empty save for a few people at the bar watching late night TV “Look, I need your help.” He pulled up a chair and joined their table. “This case is much bigger than we originally thought. The Pyroclan were murdered, hung in their cells. Then all of a sudden I get a text from Deadpool-”

“Deadpool!? Isn't he clinically insane?” Foggy coughed.

“Shhh.” Karen waved at him to hush, interested in hearing the juicy details.

“Him and Spider-Man ran across another burned body on a roof. This time there was some strange deranged woman who attacked them. But he didn't give me anymore details. That was five days ago and I haven't heard from them sense. I've been calling and texting but he hasn't even read them.” Morris explained, just thinking about it was making him sweat.

“Wait, Spider-Man was hanging out with Deadpool? Why?” Foggy finished his drink, staring into the empty glass longingly.

“That's not important.” Matt answered before turning back to Morris. “You need to find them?” He didn't wait for an answer and was already reaching for his cane.

“Be careful Matt.” Karen called after him, shaking her head as she took another sip of beer. The lawyer lead Morris out into the red moonlit streets.

“This your car?” Matt asked, smacking the tire of the vehicle parked on the street with his cane. “It smells like you.” He grumbled, reaching for the door handle before Morris could even answer. “Like cheep cologne, Altoids and...mango punch shampoo.”

“What...” Morris paused as he fished his keys out of his pocket. “You can smell the Altoid mint I had like...a hour ago?” He stared bewildered at the lawyer as he took the passengers seat.

“Hmmm, a bit, it's very faint. But you were practically breathing in my face when you came to our table...” He huffed while Morris started the engine. Matt popped open the glove box, as if he had ridden with the detective thousands of times for leisure. “You could use another one.” He grabbed the small box of mints took one out for himself before dropping one in the detectives out stretched hand.

“Head to my apartment, it's just a few blocks from here. I'll tell you where to turn.” Matt instructed. Morris followed orders, trying not to be offended about the whole Altoid thing.

“So...” Morris began awkwardly. He had the faintest feeling that Matt didn't really like him. “You uh...got super smelling or something? I knew you had heightened senses but...I didn't know you could tell which car was mine based off the smell alone.”

Matt snorted.

“I once smelled a sniper from two blocks away just from his gun powder. Figuring out this was your car was a no brainer.” he shrugged. “Left at the light.” Morris was silent, quietly contemplating this new information as the seeds of a plan began to hatch in his mind.

“Could you track me down just from the smell of...what was it? Altoids, cheap cologne and mango shampoo?” He raised a brow, more amused than anything.

“Well, that and the unique rhythm of your heart, or the sound of your voice. I could even recognize you from the sound of your watch. It's three seconds off.”

“So...what about this? Could you smell this in someone's blood stream?” Morris fished into his pocket and pulled out a small glass vile containing a small amount of blood. Matt took it, rotated in his palms a few times before holding it in front of his face for a good minute.

“What is this stuff made of? Blood and...some kind of chemical mixture? It smells toxic, like straight up poison.” He paused for a second before turning back to Morris with a surprised expression. “That man! The homeless guy I found who never got burned. The one you asked about. He smelled a little bit like this.” He focused on the thin vile again, as if trying harder this time to understand it's contents.

“Holy cow...you weren't kidding about that nose of yours. Your'e a straight up Bloodhound.” Morris admired.

“Very funny. Next right.”

“Seriously though. That is a blood sample from the woman we found on the roof, the one Deadpool texted me about. Apparently she was injected with the same stuff we found in that first body. So that's why it smelled like him.” the detective explained. “So...you could track someone with this in their blood?”

“For sure, it's very potent. Kinda don't want to smell it ever again.” He scrunched up his nose in disgust. “Almost there. Two more blocks and it's the building on the left next to that obnoxious neon billboard.”

Morris parked outside the old building and followed Matt into his apartment. The detective kept his arms hugged snug to his side, feeling rather uncomfortable walking through the hero's living space. He hardly knew the guy. 

“What's your plan here Morris?” Matt questioned, making his way to a large wardrobe against the living room wall. He retrieved his red Daredevil suit and stepped into the bedroom with it.

“If I can't find Deadpool or Spider-Man, then finding someone who has been injected with this stuff is the next best thing. If we can track them down, it's sure to lead us to more clues.” He figured, silently praying to himself that the devil of Hell's Kitchen could actually help him.

“Sounds like a plan.” Matt emerged, donned in his red suit and looking twice as menacing as ever. “Where should we start?”

“Figured I'd...I don't know drive around with the window rolled down and you can just smell the air or whatever the hell it is you do. Will that work?”

“Yeah,” Matt chuckled, picturing himself with his head out the window, tongue lulling in the wind like a Bloodhound Morris had jokingly compared him to earlier. “That works.”

Morris didn't fight the victorious smile that beamed across his face. He was doing it, collaborating with a hero like the other S.H.I.E.L.D agents and going out into the field.

The two zipped around Manhattan in the detectives car. Silently Morris scanned the streets while Daredevil sat in the back with all the windows down. He would turn his head, listening to the city and filtering out unnecessary sounds. They did this for a good hour and a half before Daredevil suddenly leaned forward between the seats and gripped Morris' arm.

“Stop!” Morris slammed his foot into the break, looking about wildly. They were in a business district, surrounded by dark office buildings closed for the night.

“What, where? What do you smell?” Morris panicked, parking along the street. The man with no fear didn't answer, he bolted out of the car and down a back alley, leaving Morris struggling to keep up.

“Did you-find one?” He huffed, keeping his gun aimed in front of him as he neared Matt. The hero motioned for him to come closer before pointing at an open door way. The door was hanging from one hinge with a hole kicked completely through it. A smear of blood lead out the door and down the alley, followed by a pair of crimson stained foot prints.

“There's no one within two blocks of here...” Matt whispered, following the trail as it lead him around the bend. The trail didn't go far before it stopped at the motionless carcass of a man in his mid forties. Morris immediately holstered his gun, and got to his knee, examining the figure.

“He's wearing the same uniform that lady on the roof was. No doubt he used to be homeless.” Morris noted, scribbling things into a note pad from his pocket. He moved the man's collar down, not at all surprised to see a red spot from where a needle had punctured the skin. Then he allowed himself to consider how the man had gotten there, dead.

“He isn't burned...he's been...” he lifted his arms and rolled him on his side. “stabbed multiple times. No doubt bled to death, but this cut seems to go straight through his heart.” Morris noted aloud.

“He hasn't been dead long. The scent of his blood is very potent. In fact, I think his killer is nearby. They went this way, I can track the chemical in his blood, no doubt the attacker got some on his clothes.” Matt hurried down another side alley that took him out into a street. Morris quickly followed, noticing the footprints beginning to fade.

“There.” Daredevil pointed to a tall concrete building a block away. As they neared it the hero quickly covered his nose, grimacing as he hissed through his teeth. “That chemical. It's all in the air. It's very strong...potent. Gives me a headache.” He mumbled. “This isn't good.”

Morris drew his weapon again as they crept closer to the building. It was a place full of rentable storage units, at least, that's what the sign said anyways. Matt lead the detective around the back of the building, so far everything seemed fine. However, Matt insisted something was a miss and he could detect several deceased bodies inside, as well as one living.

“Their heart rate his through the roof. On the third floor.” He pointed up to an open window along the fire escape.

“Get ready, we don't know what we're up against. This could very well be the person behind this whole ordeal.” Morris warned him as they climbed towards the point of entry.

Once inside the building, Morris was put on edge. Immediately they were met with a pile of three bodies, limbs severed in multiple places, heaped up on a puddle of blood. The hanging lights flickered, one of them hanging, half ripped from the ceiling. The metal unit doors that lined the halls were splattered in red speckled, some even dented where a body had been thrown at it.

Morris' grip tightened on his gun and he tried to tame his shaky hands. This was beyond brutal, it was savage. Sure, the people who were hacked up had supposedly been the same who attacked Spider-Man and Daredevil on the roof...but they were also drugged, everyday homeless individuals. At this point the S.H.I.E.L.D agent wasn't sure who was the villain anymore, and who was in the right. All he knew was that this...was the work of a monster.

His foot slipped on a trail of blood and he nearly lost his balance. The sound of thick liquid squishing beneath the rubber sole of his shoe was enough to make his skin crawl. Matt was ahead of him, managing to silently step down the corridor. They weaved around bodies, the death count slowly rising in Morris' head. So far he had counted nine corpses, and he was positive there was more.

Daredevil paused, all at once, just before reaching the end of the hall where it split into two directions. He raised a finger over his lips and pointed to the right where the lights had stopped working down the hall. They scooted ever closer before slowly peering around the bend. Morris inhaled sharply through his nose at the absolute blood bath before him. The whole hall was painted in red, the gory illusion caused from the crimson moonlight that seeped through the windows. Despite the hue being caused by the blood moon outside, it didn't change the fact that every ten feet another hacked up person laid on the ground, their fluids staining the floor. At the end of the hall, facing a unit door, was a muscular, red clad, figure, brandishing a katana in either hand.

Morris held his breath, holding his gun up with shaking hands. The only sound was the heavy breathing from the man down the hall, his air coming out in forceful grunts like an angered bull. Morris aimed, finger poised on the trigger.

“Wait, that's-” Matt reached to stop him but was too late, the detective fired. Before the bullet left the barrel, before the echoing bang filled the hall, the man had already begun to turn around, aware of their presence. His dripping blades glistened in the moon light as he swung one up skilfully, splitting the bullet in two. The severed projectile flew in separate directions, ricocheting off the metal unit door and then eventually clattered to the ground.

“That's Deadpool you moro-” Matt didn't get to finish as the mercenary suddenly came barreling down the hall, weapons drawn to attack.

“ACK!” Morris screeched as Matt shoved him out of the way and he tripped, collapsing onto a body. From the corner of his eye he saw Daredevil retrieve his billy club like weapon from his belt, blocking Wade's attack just in time.

“What are you doing here!?” Deadpool hissed, bearing down so hard with his sword that Matt had to roll out of the way as the Katana came slicing downwards.

“We should be asking you that. What have you done? Look at all these bodies. How can Spider-Man put up with you?” Daredevil retaliated, attaching both of his sticks together to make a long metal pole. He swung it at the mercenary, blocking one katana while dodging the other. He managed a jab to Wade's gut before he was roughly kicked backwards.

“You can't stop me.” Deadpool barked, swinging at the devil's shoulder. Matt ducked, bringing his fist up into the mercenaries elbow with a loud crack. Wade's nerves pinched and his hand opened, dropping the katana. Matt shoved himself into the mercenary, slamming him against a metal unit door. He tried to bring his knee into Wade's gut, but Deadpool quickly brought the butt of his sword down on Matt's head, cracking the horned helmet. When Daredevil flenched, Wade quickly took the brief oppurtunity to hurl him in the opposite direction, sending him skidding down a trail of blood like it was a “Slip 'n slide”.

“I don't have time for this shit.” Wade growled. He pulled a revolver from his belt and aimed it straight at Morris, who squeaked in shock. “Leave now, or god so help me I'll blast the agents brains out.”

Matt let his weapon clatter to the ground, raising one arm towards the mercenary to show he had no intentions of attacking.

“Wade...you don't want to do this. Clearly something is wrong, just tell us and maybe we can help.” Matt panted, rubbing his side where he had been kicked. The eyes of Wade's mask narrowed, gun still poised directly at Morris.

“I...I texted you multiple times. I've been looking all over for you. We need your help...and Spider-Man's.” Morris pleaded, holding his arms up in surrender. Deadpool let out a shout of frustration as he pulled the trigger, aiming just past the detective's head. Morris screamed, expecting the stinging bite of death, but was instead grabbed by his suit collar.

“He's gone. They took him!” Wade bellowed in his face, emitting pure unbridled rage.

“W-what?” Morris stammered, staring wide eyed.

“These...these sick brainless fucks burned his t...home, and kidnapped him. He's gone.” The mercenary exclaimed. He was so livid he abruptly dropped Morris and spun on his heel, throwing his katan across the hall with an irritated cry, watching as it pierced the wall and stayed there.

“Where did they take him?” Morris stood, trying his best to ignore the cold spots on his suite where someone else's blood was beginning to soak in.

“Do you think if I knew that I would be here? No dammit! Every day...every second I waste explaining this to you, is another second he could be...” he stopped talking, opting for punching the wall instead. By now Daredevil had managed to his feet and stood beside Morris, watching as Wade grabbed his blades and returned to the last storage unit in the hall. He knelt by the padlock and quietly began to pick it until it clicked open and he was able to slide the metal door upwards.

Inside was a strange lay out, looking almost like a miniature living area. A small sofa was against one wall, facing a TV and stand that was against the opposite side. There was a dresser and mini fridge in one corner, and a stack of boxes in another. A small coffee table sat in the middle of the room, littered in knick knacks and envelopes.

“Who's stuff is that?” Morris attempted to speak with Wade again. He needed to know what the mercenary was up to. If whoever was behind this whole mess really had kidnapped Spider-Man, then it was in everyone's best interest to work together.

“This unit is rented by someone who goes by the name Josh Rhodes.” Wade grumbled, picking up the stack of papers on the table. “He's homeless...apparently.”

“How does he tie into all this?” Matt asked.

“Not sure. Didn't think he did at first. But I wasn't willing to take chances not when...not when it comes to...”

{Our Baby Boy.}

[Our Petey Pie.]

Wade dropped the sentence before beginning again,

“Saw this guy...apparently he was friends with Spidey or something like that,” he spared the details that would let them know of Peter's identity or personal life predicament. “Knew his name was Josh but that's about it. Anyways, after Spidey disappeared and I saw his home on fire, I knew it had something to do with this stupid case you've been working on.” He jabbed a finger towards Morris. “So I hacked into S.H.I.E.L.D's database and searched for every man from his 30's-40's with the name Josh in Manhattan. Took me five days to find his information. The only thing in your file was a security camera picture from this storage unit company. Along with a rental agreement document with his signature for unit C54.” He paused when he reached a letter in the stack of papers he had been sifting through. He chucked the letter at Morris before returning to his searching.

“How's that for evidence?” Wade asked. Morris looked down at the envelope with the name “Curtis” scribbled across the front.

“That's the name of the Pyroclan leader!” He exclaimed, quickly tearing it open to get to the note inside.

“See, I didn't actually suspect him of anything. Just...had exhausted all my other leads. But when I got close, and found this place crawling with these crazy people, the same as the woman who had attacked us...I knew I was on the right trail. Knew he had something to do with it all.” Wade snorted.

“This is proof that what Tray confessed was right!” Morris gasped, speed reading the letter. “This Josh guy is giving them the location for the next hit...they were supposed to burn the body five days ago at the same rooftop where you and Spider-Man fought that woman! They must have sent the lady to burn the body after catching wind the Pyroclan had been arrested. The instructions were written but never sent.” He concluded.

Wade grunted in agreement as he rummaged through Josh's boxes. He dumped out a pile of guns and boxes of ammunition as well as cash. At the bottom of the box was a metal container. Painted on it was a black skull with six octopus tentacles curling underneath it.

“Shit...” Wade moaned, staring at the familiar symbol. His muttering caught Morris' attention who instantly saw the symbol and gasped aloud,

“Hydra! Holy crap!”

Wade broke the small lock keeping the box closed, his dread only doubling when he pulled out a pair of dog tags with the name “Josua Rhodos.”

“Josh Rhodes isn't a homeless New Yorker...he's a German Hydra agent.” Wade hissed, chucking the dog tags back inside and slamming the lid closed in disgust.

“Oh, no no no no no.” Morris grabbed at his head, panic settling in his gut. “This is big, this is so much bigger than we thought. I can't do this! I'm not trained enough to deal with Hydra. I...I help the NYPD solve murder mysteries! This has been my first cas assignment from Fury. I-I can't deal with flippin HYDRA!” He rummaged for his phone “I need to call someone.”

Wade quickly spun around, jumping up and smacking Morris' phone to the ground. He stomped it with his boot, shattering the glass screen.

“What the hell!?

“You cannot call S.H.I.E.L.D.” Wade demanded, “I know how they work. I just spent the past few months in the Congo with some of you idiots taking down another branch of Hydra working to make genetically modified dinosaurs. It took us months to complete that mission. It was a messy job. People died, even a few of the doctors they wanted to bring back alive. You know how many they brought back? None. If Hydra has Spider-Man, then I'm not waiting five months to rescue him and risk him being a casualty in an all out war that could span over New York.”

Matt was nodding in agreement. He understood that sometimes it was best to take things into your own hands.

“We do this ourselves.”

{Not to mention, we don't want S.H.I.E.L.D learning Spidey's secret identity. That juicy secret is for us and us alone.} Yellow hummed in the back of his mind.

[We've let Peter down too many times, we can't let him down again.] White added. For the past five days the boxes had been nothing but raging slurs and violent encouragers, it was calming to hear them talking about Spidey again.

“But...” Morris was beginning to pale, he looked like he could faint at any moment. All the excitement was almost too much for his little heart to handle. “Nick Fury has all the information on Hydra...I...I don't even know where to start looking. Josh isn't here now...we don't even know where his headquarters are or what branch of Hydra he is working for.” he fretted.

Wade ignored the detective's excessive panicking and continued to search the storage unit. Matt patted Morris' shoulder encouragingly, attempting to convince him that he was capable of doing this without help from his superiors.

Wade turned to the dresser next, rummaging through the drawers. The first two were filled with nothing but tattered old smelly clothes riddled with holes and stains. No doubt these were his “homeless” costumes. The top drawer proved more promising, revealing clean folded uniforms with the word “Apotheke” sewn above the breast pocket. The first two uniforms consisted of vests, white shirts and an apron, while the second was a gray suit with the “o” in “Apotheke” replaced with the Hydra skull and tentacles.

“Why don't we start with this?” He held up the uniforms victoriously.

“Apotheke...?” Morris read it aloud before scrunching his face into a frown. “I don't know what Apotheke is. It could literally be anything! Hydra is full of encryptions, we need an expert for this. We'll never ev-”

“Siri, what is Apotheke?” Matt broke the silence, holding his phone to his mouth. There was a moment of silence as Morris stared at him bewildered. Finally his phone responded,

“Here's what I found on Apotheke.” The two stared at Matt, waiting for an explanation.

“Hmmm...I can't see it.” he stated bluntly then held the phone out to Morris.

“It...says it's German for “pharmacy”...also says it's a Cocktail Bar here in Manhattan.”

“Let me see that.” Wade snatched the phone quickly.

{Oooh, four and a half stars on Yelp.} Wade flipped through the customer reviews and photos and quickly found a photo some girl had uploaded of her drink. In the background was Josh Rhodes, the braid bearded bar tender. He wore the vested uniform Wade had found in the drawer.

“Look, there's the fucker right there. He's wearing these exact clothes!” He handed the phone back to Morris and waved the clothes around in his face. “You don't need Nick Fury when Google knows everything already.” He snorted, his mood having done a one eighty now that he knew where to get his baby boy.

He suddenly began shewing Daredevil and the detective out of the storage unit, waving for them to go down the hall.

“Hurry up and get out of here. Go do research on Apotheke and figure out how they operate with Hydra and what the best way to infiltrate them would be.”

“W-what about you and this huge mess you made?” Matt snorted, pointing at the blood stained walls and many chopped corpses.

“You two skedaddle I'll clean this all up...I'm expecting someone anyways.” He growled the last part, that flash of fury momentarily returning to his features.

“Who?”

“Josh Rhodes.”

 

* * *

 

 

Josh Rhodes...he couldn't believe it. Peter remembered the sting of betrayal that shot through him when he awoke with a pounding headache, trapped in a special glass cell, being watched by the homeless man he once thought to be his friend. He had been confused at first, scared and bewildered. But he soon recognized the many Hydra symbols worn on the badges of passing scientists as they worked around his prison.

He regretted believing Josh, and excepting his help in the first place. Regretted moving into the Tent City and especially regretted staying there alone at night where he could be attacked in his sleep. It had been five days since then, at least that's what the clock hanging across the lab said, he had no clue if it was right, had no clue if it was night or day outside of wherever he was being held captive.

It was odd, the way they treated him. Most of the scientists didn't give him a second look, walking past his cell every day as if he wasn't even there. They kept to themselves working at their desks on some strange drug that Peter could only assume was what the lady on the roof had been given. Once a day a small panel would open in the wall and one of the workers would slide in a tray of food, nothing fancy. It hardly did anything to curve his crazy apatite, if anything he was starving more now then when he had been on the streets. He had taken to dumpster diving and would give anything to be rummaging through a trash can at that very moment.

The only other form of human contact he had was when the Hydra agents would usher one of their lab rats into his cell. They were all homeless people, drugged with the same thing. None of them moved a muscle, just stared straight at him until an agent would tap on the glass and order them to attack. That's when things got ugly. They would hurl themselves at the web slinger, clawing and scratching at him, attempting to tear him to shreds. He always tried to restrain himself, to hold back, knowing these were innocent people under some strange influence, but they never stopped. He would tackle them down, threaten them, plead and even bust their knees, but nothing stopped them. He was forced to fight for his own life, but it wasn't easy. Each person they sent in was somehow stronger than the next, until the fourth day.

It was a child, a small tiny thing no older than ten. Peter couldn't possibly beat him, couldn't bring himself to do it. But he hardly had the chance to finish his thought when he was charged and tackled. It felt like the Incredible Hulk had body slammed him into pavement. A sharp cry escaped him when the kids knee dug into his healing wound, re-opening the cut. The boy shrieked and spat, clawing at Peter's neck and face. Peter thought he was a goner, unable to push the mad kid off of him. But the boy suddenly froze up, his muscles stiffening. His eyes widened like moons as drool began to dribble down his chin. Then he shivered, yellow bile rising out of his throat as he vomited right on top of Peter. It was awful, it stunk, his side hurt, his face and neck were bleeding from the raw scratches and the kid collapsed, dead, on top of him.

Peter shivered, remembering that horrible experience. All they had given him was a wet rag to clean himself off, but it did nothing to get rid of the smell that had stained his white shirt and matching pants. Today he hoped they gave up on trying to get him to battle anymore drugged up homeless super soldiers. He was exhausted, hurting, hungry and emotionally drained.

When the lights finally went out in the lab, and the employees all but disappeared, he huddled up in the cleanest corner of his cell, letting his mind dream of better things. The only thing that brought him comfort was the realization that it obviously had not been Josh that had gifted him with presents in his tent that one morning. He couldn't be sure who it was anymore, but the thought occurred to him that maybe...just maybe it was Wade. At first he shot the idea down, remembering how his name had been written on the box, but every night his mind went back to that. He thought of how the mercenary had tried to buy him food, invite him over, let him fall asleep resting on his shoulder. During his whole ordeal with homelessness Wade had been the only one that was there for him, whether it was him who snuck into his tent, or not.

His heart felt heavy, yet empty all at the same time. He did't miss his cold tent or the dumpsters, didn't miss his college campus, his old job or even his old apartment, he missed Wade. Missed the opportunity he had to tell him and let the mercenary coddle him like he so clearly wanted to. He missed his supportive words and warm embrace and the adoring gentleness in his every touch.

Peter's lip trembled as he clutched a hand over the stitches in his side. If he made it out, somehow escaped, he would tell him. Tell him he was homeless, tell him his name, take off his mask and without hesitation spill it all. He loved him, he really did. And he had known it, known it when the mercenary disappeared for those long months and it hurt. He had ached over it for so long, just...wondering if he would see him again, hear him again, feel him again. He had missed him then, and he missed him now.

It was time to give in, to finally let the man suffocate him in the love he had gone so long without.

The gaping hole in his heart seemed to widen, matching the emptiness in his stomach. His whole body began to shake as salty tears bubbled over and he cried himself to sleep. Wade's name an utterance on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have a few questions for you guys, and a few things I wanted to share. (the tid bit will be shorter)
> 
> How do you guys feel about Matt being in the fic so much? My beta reader commented that although she loves him, she thought he was taking up too much of the spot light. I feel like he's crucial to solving the case, but if you guys are tired of seeing him then I don't want him to take up so much space in the fic and I can tone him down a bit. 
> 
> Other question. Are these chapters long enough for you guys? I use a site that lets me know how long they on average take to read. It's usually somewhere between 20-30 minutes. I've read a few great fanfics with chapters three times as long as mine. Would you guys want longer chapters or are these good enough for you? Just a heads up that longer chapters WILL take longer for me to type and for my beta reader to review. 
> 
> Ok so this isn't a question but I found out two random little facts while doing research that I thought was ironically funny and I wanted to share them before giving you the tid-bit. 
> 
> 1\. So apparently Altoids are hard to find in the UK, even though they are like manufactured there or something. They are distributed over there by this company called Morrison's XD idk that just made me chuckle. It's stupid I know. 
> 
> 2\. When I decided on the name Apotheke, all I knew was that it meant "pharmacy" in German, I picked that name for reasons soon to be explained (but probably kinda obvious). Later while typing the chapter I Googled it again just to make sure I was spelling it right...and the first thing that popped up was a bar in Manhattan named Apotheke. So I immediately decided to use that bar. Idk I just felt like that was worth sharing. Most of the locations I mention exist in real life or are from the Marvel verse. 
> 
>  
> 
> TID-BIT
> 
> Homelessness does not discriminate between age, race, gender or sexuality. Anyone, can be homeless. (obviously)  
> 8% of homeless are veterans. Women have the highest risk of being homeless. A high majority of homeless are children, teens and young adults. Half of the homeless population is contrived of sick individuals or people over the age of 50. 45% of the homeless veterans are of different ethnicity. 
> 
> Homeless individuals belonging to the LGBT community are more likely to experience difficulties in shelters due to improper placement. About 110,000 LGBT youth are homeless today. Shelters claim that one reason it is so hard to accept them is due to their higher risk of committing suicide, the probability being twice as much as heterosexual individuals. They are also at greater risk of becoming victims of sexual assault and abuse. Studies show that a huge contributing factor to LGBT youth homelessness comes from their families own rejection, neglect or abuse. 
> 
> "Death does not discriminate between the sinners and the saints. It just takes and it takes."


	12. It's Called "Operation Hobbling"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade taps in to his inner rage and through a series of violent events, learns about the upcoming Apotheke banquet. He's not above party crashing. 
> 
> (Or as my Beta reader likes to call it "Big Daddy Wade finally shows up")

Hydra agent...another Hydra agent...a Hydra scientist and his next subject...Josh Rhodes. Peter watched the door to the lab from his spot curled up on the floor. His knees were drawn up close, one hand still clutching the aching wound on his side. He blinked slowly, his breathes staggered and few between. He had zero to no energy and it felt like his stomach was going to eat him from the inside out, but still, he watched the door. He silently gazed onwards as agent after agent, scientist after scientist walked in and out of the double doors. He didn't bother to memorize them, or count how many workers were in the facility, he just...watched, waited, wished for Wade Wilson to walk in wielding his weapons. Sadly, no such luck.

His finger gently traced the outline of a stitch, feeling it with feather lite touches under his shirt. Every moment that passed seemed to suck his hope away, but he reminded himself that Wade was there for him. Wade cared if he was missing. Wade would look for him. He wouldn't let him suffer. That alone was the only thing that kept him from curling in on himself and finally lifting a white flag to the troubles of life.

When he was especially low, feeling defeated and beaten after the scientists would test the strength of their homeless super soldiers on him, he would imagine what it would be like if Wade barged into the lab. Would he be in a fit of rage, unconsolable as he slaughtered everyone on site, driven from anger. Or perhaps he would run straight to Peter's prison, break the glass and carry him out like a prince in shining armor. He just hoped he would live to see the mercenary one last time, no matter the circumstances.

There wasn't much that could pull Peter from his daydreaming, but the promise of food was too hard to ignore. Josh neared the far wall of the glass cell and slid open the slot in the panel.

“Food.” He grunted, sliding a tray across the floor. Peter didn't look at him, didn't turn his head, he just wanted to forget the man even existed. It was odd, the way Josh acted. He didn't gloat about outsmarting Spider-Man, he didn't crack jokes about the fact he had been homeless, didn't tease him or threaten. It was almost as if he could care less if Peter was Spider-Man, or just another homeless nobody.

When Josh finally turned away, Peter pushed himself off the floor, reached over and grabbed the tray. It wasn't much. A bottle of water, plain turkey sandwich, and what Peter hoped was apple sauce, was all they gave him.

“I'm going to starve to death.” He muttered to himself as he practically inhaled the bland sandwich, it was better than nothing. The insufficient portion wasn't enough to satisfy his lightning fast metabolism, just enough to keep him from keeling over. As he downed the water his attention was caught by the lab doors opening again.

A man he didn't recognize marched through them, head held high with an heir of greatness. From the badges decorating his uniform, Peter assumed he was the man placed in charge of this branch of Hydra. Just another pawn in the grand scheme of things.

“It's about time you showed up!” One of the scientists barked when they noticed his presence.

“Not the welcome I was expecting.” The officer sneered. He stepped to the middle of the room, scanned his surroundings, glanced at Peter, then turned back to the scientists. “What was so urgent that you fools had to spam my inbox?” He huffed. Before they got the chance to respond, one of the scientists across the lab shouted in frustration. Everyone, including Peter, turned to see what the commotion was about.

One of the drugged up homeless soldiers was convulsing, having dropped whatever box the scientist was making him carry. His eyes rolled back in his head, bubbly vomit regurgitated out of his mouth and down the front of his clothes. Then, he froze, before collapsing dead on the ground.

“That! That's the emergency.” The head scientist pointed at the vile scene that played out before them.

“Explain.”

“We recreated the serum and it's magnificent. Works exactly how we wanted it to, probably better than it did 70 years ago. These soldiers are practically unstoppable, their memories are completely erased, their minds are blank slates. The chemical is totally untraceable when exposed to excessive heat and leaves nothing behind that can prove they had anything in their system. But there is a horrible bug that we just don't have the money to fix.” The scientist ranted.

“A bug?” The Officer folded his arms.

“The serum stays in their blood stream, constantly looping through their system. It can't be filtered out. This is necessary to keep it's lasting effect. However, it's poisoning their organs and we've run out of supplies to develop a newer strand of the serum. None of them have gone longer than two weeks without just...dying!” He explained.

Peter gulped at the new information, fitting the pieces together. He was very grateful for the fact that they hadn't attempted to try the serum out on him as well.

“You can't fix it?” The officer continued, frustration beginning to settle on his face.

“We could, I'm certain of it. But like I said, we have noting left in the budget. Perhaps we should move that sponsor dinner to this upcoming weekend. We could add potential investors and last minute VIP guests as well.” The scientist suggested.

“You're going to need a demonstration flashy enough to peak their interest.” The Officer nodded in approval before leading the conversation across the room and towards the exit. Peter tried to listen in to the rest, without it coming across as obvious. He caught a few pieces here and there, but not enough for him to figure out what exactly would be going on at this up and coming banquet.

“I'm sure the guests wouldn't be able to resist funding a serum with effects powerful enough to defeat even Spider-Man.” One of the scientists beamed, nodding towards Peter. “We can demonstrate the soldier's strength at the banquet.” Peter tried not to give any visible clues that their conversation was bothering him.

As the scientists' conversation with their overseer drew to an end, the officer called for Josh Rhodes.

“Mr. Rhodes,” He shouted, summoning the man from the other side of the room. “Go do whatever it is you do to round up more test subjects. We'll need a few for this weekend.” He waved of Josh who quickly left the labs. He was soon followed by the Officer and scientists, who continued their conversation where Peter could not hear them.

The broken hero slumped back down onto his side, curling into a tight ball. That growing emptiness inside was beginning to pool with dread.

“Please,” his voice was hoarse as he whispered under his breath, “don't leave me here.” He begged, as if through some miracle his cry for help would reach the mercenary and sway him to intervene. He closed his eyes, clenching them tight, trying not to let the darkness of despair take him.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Pain, it engulfed him like a wild flame, unkept and reaching to the heavens, hungry for more. More, more, more, the mercenary would not be satisfied. Josh could see it through his blurred vision, set in determination on the man's scarred face. It burned in his muscles, eating him from the inside out and manifesting itself into every hit, every blow that made contact with his prisoner's flesh.

Josh's first thought was that the devil incarnate had come to repay him for all his sins. But he quickly learned that Wade Wilson was possessed with the vengeful rage of hell fire, unyielding to man, demon or beast.

When he had opened his storage unit door he was startled to find the mercenary Deadpool sitting on his couch, gun in hand. It all happened so quick. No amount of training could have prepared him for the unbridled wrath of Wade Winston Wilson. His first instinct was to bolt, make a run for it.

The mercenary had quickly overtaken him and zip tied him to a foldable metal chair. There were no words exchanged between them, other than grunts of pain from Josh as Deadpool's fist made contact with his face. It was pointless to play innocent or try to talk himself out of the situation he found himself in. By the array his possessions had been left in, Josh could tell the mercenary had gone through his things. Wade already knew.

The Hydra agent gritted his teeth as Wade sent another jab at him, this one cracked his nose and he hissed in pain. This continued for a few agonizing minutes until Josh was sporting a swollen black eye and blood was dribbling from his busted lips. The knuckles of Deadpool's gloves were speckled in red splotches. He stepped back, his chest heaving as he took deep breathes, trying to calm the raging flames that ate at his heart.

He grabbed the back of the metal chair, spinning Josh around so he faced the couch. The hydra agent spat a wad of blood out of his mouth, ill of the iron taste it left on his tongue. He watched through squinted eyes as Deadpool lifted the bottom half of his mask, lit a cigarette from his utility belt and took a deep inhale. He sat himself on the sofa, manspreading across from the agent. Leaning forward onto his elbows, he silently exhaling smoke into Josh's face. Finally, he spoke, his voice low like a bucket of gravel,

“Where is he?”

Josh refused to answer, staring into the emotionless white void that were the eyes of Wade's mask. He had accepted his defeat, but no information would be squeezed out of him. No doubt S.H.I.E.L.D had sent Wade to interrogate him about the missing hero, if he couldn't get what he wanted, he would more than likely be handed over to Nick Fury. Now that was something he was trained for, to stay quiet while he rotted in a cell for the rest of his life. That he could endure, so he kept his mouth shut.

After another long inhale the mercenary removed the cigarette and abruptly pressed the burning end into Josh's bruised cheek.

“Where is he?” He repeated in a puff of grey swirling smoke.

Josh jolted, trying to move his head away, but Wade persistently held the cigarette in place as it cooked a raw spot in the man's face. Finally the hydra agent shouted from the stinging agony of his flesh beginning to melt, but he still refused to talk. Wade didn't let up, not until the heat in the cigarette died down and could no longer do any damage. By now Josh was sporting a festering red whelp of bubbling skin.

“I'm not telling you anything. You might as well go ahead and hand me over to Nick Fury or whoever the hell hired you.” Josh ground out, still refusing to give the mercenary what he wanted.

“Unfortunately for you, I wasn't hired.” Wade stood, flicking the dead cigarette across the room. He bent down close to the agent's ear, “It's personal.”

That statement alone was enough to send a shiver of dread down Josh's spine. Without S.H.I.E.L.D to answer to, the mercenary was a loose canon. As realization started to hit him, his resolve began to slowly crack. A yelp escaped him when Wade suddenly grabbed a fistful of his hair and tilted his head to the side.

“I swear to god, if you have so much as hurt a hair on his pretty little head...” Wade threatened. He pulled a knife from his belt and held it against the agent's exposed neck. The blade dug into his skin, cutting through the first layers and releasing a drop of blood.

“Where is he?” He asked again. “My patience is growing thin.”

Josh clenched his fists, struggling against his restraints, but to no avail. His breath came in frightened pants as his mind raced for ways to get him out of the situation.

“Y-You're going to need to be more specific. I-I'm a Hydra agent. There are dozens of people I've brought in already.” he fibbed, having already guessed who the mercenary was looking for. Why he had such an interest in the web slinger was beyond him though. Spider-Man was a golden hearted hero who worked with the Avengers, while Deadpool knew no self control. They were total opposites.

“You know who I'm talking about. Tell me what you did with Spider-Man.” Wade spat, kicking Josh's shin to coax an answer from him.

“Nothing, what makes you think I--” Josh was cut off, choking on his own scream as Wade drove the knife into his shoulder, twisting it roughly.

“ _ **ANSWER ME**_!”

{Kill him!} Yellow urged him on.

[We need information from him first. We _**NEED**_ to save Spidey.] White reminded them.

{Make him feel like he's being killed.} Yellow suggested, that was second best after all.

“I don't know!” Josh shrieked, feigning ignorance.

“You will by the time I'm done with you.” Wade growled, stepping back but leaving the knife in his shoulder.

[Put him through misery.] White barked.

{That's a great idea! Go Annie Wilkes on him.} Yellow agreed. Wade gave an eery grin before roughly kicking the hydra agent, sending him and the chair falling backwards. Josh landed with a grunt, hissing as the knife in his shoulder was jarred from the movement. He watched in fear as Deadpool moved the coffee table, positioning it under his tied up feet. His ankles had been tied to the chair legs, leaving a gap between them. Panic overcame Josh when the mercenary set the metal Hydra lock box between both his feet then began rummaging around the unit. When he turned back around, he was carrying a crow bar he had pulled from one of the boxes.

Without so much as a word he positioned himself at the end of the coffee table, raising the bar like a baseball bat.

“Wait wait wait wait...” Josh began to plead, realizing he was about to be hobbled. Wade paused for a moment as the agent choked on his words. Then he swung the bar down hard, whacking the side of Josh's left ankle. His foot twisted to the right like a rubber dummy. The crack of his bone was drowned out by his blood curtailing scream. He writhed and pulled against his restraints, sobbing from the excruciating pain. Wade stood over him, watching as snot and tears covered the man's face.

The mercenary grunted in disappointment and moved to the other side of the table.

“No no no no no no no no! I'll talk I'll talk!” He wailed loudly. Wade raised the bar again, but held it in the air this time, waiting to see what information the agent would give him.

“Better hurry.” He warned. Josh nodded and took a moment to gasp air in through his mouth, trying to keep himself from out right vomiting. Deadpool pretended to swing the bar again, impatient with Josh.

“I-I took him! It's just my job!” He practically screamed when he saw the crow bar in motion again.

“Where!? Apotheke?” Wade barked, tapping the bar slowly against Josh's right ankle.

“Yes! Yes!” He sobbed. Wade smiled then raised the bar in the air again.

“Not enough.” He sneered.

“ _No Stop!_ I know more! L-let me go and I'll tell you everything.” He tried to negotiate. “I'll...I'll even take you to him.” Wade paused, leaning closer so the agent could hear him.

“You'll tell me everything anyways.” He muttered, then stood back up and swung the bar, snapping the agent's right ankle like a twig. Both his feet dangled in a lopsided position, swollen, puffy and purple where they had been cracked.

Josh was choking on air, his body stunned from the physical over load of searing pain being shot through his nerves like fire. He repeatedly banged the back of his head on the cold cement ground, trying desperately to feel anything but his throbbing ankles. Finally his voice broke through as an agonized sob.

{Cut out his tongue, he's loud as hell.} Yellow growled.

[No, then he can't tell us where Spidey is. Scalp him slowly then gag him with it!] White hissed.

{Let's rip off his nail beds then hammer real nails into his finger tips.}

[Cut his thumbs off then use them to gouge out his eyes.]

{Carve the Bee movie script into his back.}

[Break all his bones.]

{Castrate him.}

The boxes schemed of numerous ways to torture the man who had dared to kidnap their baby boy. Despite how wondrous their suggestion seemed, appealing to Wade's sadistic streak, he drowned out their voices, blinded by the need to find and rescue Peter.

“Above and beyond, as they say.” He grunted, moving the metal box from in between Josh's ankles. He slid the container up until it was snug between his knees, earning a groan from the agent.

“Oh god, please no. I can't-I can't..” He didn't finish, succumbing to a pitiful mess of desperate, inaudible pleas for mercy.

“Start talkin or you'll never be walkin.” Wade snorted, upset at his sad attempt to lighten his own mood. He was too far gone with anger now.

“A banquet! They're having a banquet this Saturday for sponsors. All the staff will be attending and there won't be as many guards in the lab. You can sneak in then and break him out. But you have to do it during the banquet.” He explained. If he wasn't going to make it out of the situation alive, the least he could do for Hydra was to trick the mercenary and make sure he wasn't able to save the hero. Loyal to the end.

[Bingo.] White laughed.

{Can we kill him now?}

“Of course.”

[Idiot, that was the only reason we were keeping him alive. Now let's hurry up, every second we waste with this fucker is another second we aren't rescuing Peter.] Wade nodded in agreement. He couldn't resist the urge to torture the man further, and swung the crow bar into Josh's right knee with a loud crack.

Josh shrieked a string of curses, wetting his pants from the shock of pain. It was too much and his mind was clouded with hate.

“You sick fuck!” Josh coughed, feeling his stomach convulse. He was past the point of begging for his life, if he was going to die, he wanted the satisfaction of seeing Deadpool suffer too. “He calls for you, you know.” He muttered, just loud enough to catch the mercenaries' attention. Wade paused, glancing down at Josh's pain twisted expression.

“What?” He growled, not sure if he even wanted to know what the agent meant.

“Spider-Man, Peter Parker. Whatever you call him. I've heard him. After the scientists have their way with him, he curls up in this pathetic ball on the ground and cries. He's so weak.” Josh spat, smiling at the teeth gritting grimace Wade was sporting. He clenched the crow bar tightly, unable to do anything but listen as he imagined the terrible hardships his baby boy was suffering.

“And he call's for you. All huddled up and sobbing. It's so pathetic, seeing a hero like him at a point so low that he would beg for help from a shit bag like you.” Josh sneered, taking small pleasure in the emotional pain and guilt he saw washing over the mercenary. “You can't save him, not really. Even if you break him out. You'll turn him into a monster...just like yourself.”

{Don't listen.}

[He's just trying to upset us.]

Wade fumed where he stood, gripping the bar so hard it shook in his fists. It was an attempt to upset him, he knew, he wasn't an idiot. But what got him wasn't what Josh said about him turning Spidey into a monster. No he had tuned out by then. It was the image his brain conjured up. There was Peter, huddled in a corner, sad, cold, hungry alone and defeated. He was hurt, crying, calling for him. And every time his name left Petey's lips, it was like a knife in his heart. Over, and over, and over again. He needed to go to him, needed to scoop him up and cradle him close. He needed to whisper softly in his ear that he was safe now, he would be ok, he heard him and was there.

The crow bar in his hand clattered to the ground as he dropped it, his anger finally dissipating, replaced with urgency. He had to leave.

To Josh's relief, Wade removed the metal box from between his knees and cast it aside. He walked to the dresser on the far wall, grabbed the folded Apotheke suits then pulled open the storage unit door. Josh watched, confused, as Wade stepped into the hall and began to slide the door down slowly.

“Is he leaving me here to starve?” Josh thought to himself, figuring he could surely find a way to break free now that the mercenary was leaving. However, just as the door was a foot off the floor, Josh turned just in time to see Deadpool roll something into the unit before letting the door slam closed.

{We could have done so much more to make him suffer.} Yellow sighed sadly as Wade walked down the hall, back turned to the unit. Just as he rounded the corner there was a thunderous boom that echoed through the corridor and shook the building.

[Think it killed him?] White grunted, hoping Josh's head had been blown clean off.

“If his limbs didn't get blasted apart then he'll die from the burns.” Wade shrugged. It was out of his hands now and out of his mind. He had gotten his sweet little revenge on the agent, it was time he got his sweet little Peter. Getting Peter back safe was his number one priority, and whether he liked it or not, he knew he was going to need some help. The weekend couldn't arrive soon enough.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The bustle of Hydra agents frantically scurrying around the facility let the head Officer know that everything was going according to schedule. He leaned back on a bar stool, watching as the fake business part of Apotheke, a small cocktail bar, was cleaned and prepped for their soon arriving guests.

Smiling contently to himself, he shook the empty shot glass in his hand, signaling for the bar tender to pour him another round.

“So far so good.” He hummed in approval, taking his drink as he stepped to a pair of double doors across the room. Usually two massive velvet curtains hung on the wall, hiding the doors from prying eyes, but not today. Today the curtains were swept back and the doors were propped open wide, allowing passage into the secret facility hidden within.

He quickly checked his watch as he descended the stair well through the doors. Thirty minutes before the scheduled time for guests to arrive. Everything was ready, all that was left were finite details that the agents were scrambling to fix.

The bottom of the stairs opened up to a massive dining hall, packed with silk covered tables. There was a small stage across the room where the scientists would showcase the product and persuade new and old sponsors into lending more money. Yes, it was all perfect, except for one thing.

“Where did Rhodes get off to?” He grumbled, downing the rest of his drink and smacking the glass down on one of the tables up front, reserving his own seat. A quick scan of the room answered his questions as he spied the Hydra agent descending the stairs into the ballroom. He was dressed in his formal uniform, tailed by two other agents. The officer smiled.

“Uh, you,” he waved to one of the hydra agents working as a waiter. “Make sure no one takes this.” he gestured to his cup then quickly marched across the room to meet with Josh.

“Agent Rhodes,” His voice boomed out, startling the man and the two other agents accompanying him. Rhodes quickly shook off his nerves and straightened his back, standing tall...taller than usual. The Officer snickered, eyeing Josh's shoes, assuming he had gone and gotten himself inserts.

“Where have you been Rhodes? I was starting to think something may have happened to you when you didn't return with a new batch of test subjects.” He patted Rhodes' shoulder, showing he had no hard feelings about the situation.

“Ah well, I searched all over and there weren't any suitable subjects. I'm guessing they all went into hiding before the cool front coming in.” He shrugged.

“Seriously, how much colder can it get in this damn city?” The officer scoffed. Josh forced a chuckle and the two agents behind him quickly pretended to find humor in the officer's comment.

“I mean come on,” The officer continued, “If it's going to be this cold why doesn't it just go ahead and snow already. What's the point of having bellow freezing temperatures, and no snow to enjoy?”

“I'm just ready for Spring.” Josh smiled.

{Really? We came all the way here in disguises to bring this facility down and the only thing we've discovered is that this fucktard likes snow...}Yellow grumbled.

[Calm down. Keep the conversations light and off business. That's a quick way to get discovered. Although the image inducer makes us look like Josh, we have to act like him and really sell it. Morris and Matt will do the digging and squeeze information out of them, that's why they're here. We are here for Spidey.] White reminded him.

{Copy.}

“So, looks like it's going to be a big turn out.” The officer started to lead Josh away, hoping to continue their conversation at his table. “When the scientists told me of some of the people they invited to this thing I just laughed. Really didn't think they'd even read the invite. Boy was I wrong, you should have seen the RSVP's that came in. Even Kin-” he paused when a sharp small chirp sounded from his pocket. With an irritated huff he retrieved his phone, reading over a text he received.

“Hmmm, I'll catch up with you after the dinner. There will be more to discuss. The scientists need me, apparently they're having some trouble with the main event.” He crammed his phone back in his pocket and stormed to another set of doors near the back of the stage that Wade made sure to note. As soon as the officer vanished, Wade spun back around, finding Matt and Morris leaning over the waiters table.

“This feels like pure silver.” Matt muttered to the S.H.I.E.L.D agent who fidgeted nervously beside him. Matt was weighing a fork in his hand, one he had picked out of the silverware stash. “Take from the rich, and give to myself.” He joked, sliding the fork into the hidden pocket he had sewn to the inside of his vest.

“Stop it, what if they see you taking the utensils? They'll come over and try to talk to us.” Morris hissed, elbowing the lawyer roughly.

“You know, for a S.H.I.E.L.D agent...you're really bad at this.” He huffed, swiping a spoon and steak knife to make a complete set.

They were quickly joined by Wade, who pulled them into a close huddle.

“You two stay here, gather your information however you like but do NOT cause a scene. When I scouted this place out I only found one exit and one entrance and it's through that cocktail bar. If something happens in this room, our escape rout is blocked.” Wade whispered.

“Oh god, why did I agree to this?” Morris practically sobbed.

“Pull yourself together. They're expecting a ton of guests so it's going to be packed in here. That'll make it easier for us to get the hell out. I'm going to go snoop around, see if I can find where they're keeping Spider-Man. Whenever they start their presentation and the lights dim, let me know. That's when I'll give Spidey my image inducer and we'll sneak out.” Wade explained, earning nods of understanding from Matt and Morris.

The detective watched anxiously as Wade scurried off to the doors the officer had gone through, as soon as he was out of sight he allowed himself a chance to breathe. He was only given a brief moment to calm himself before he was shot back into a panic.

“Matt!” He exclaimed, as quietly as possible. The blinded hero was carrying the whole basket of forks, walking off with it. “What are you doing!? You cannot take all their forks!” He darted towards the man, attempting to grab the basket.

“Would you calm down for a second and try to blend in maybe? Like me.” Matt growled, nodding his head toward another Hydra waiter across the room who was carrying a basket of spoons and setting the tables. Morris watched as Matt set a few forks then moved on to another table.

The detective followed Matt's lead, grabbing the basket of knives for himself. It was hard to keep a steady hand as he placed them carefully at each seat. His mind was venturing, imagining what horrible secrets lied beyond the walls of the banquet hall. The dread and anticipation was killing him.

Directly beneath the banquet hall, through a thick layer of metal and concrete, a small commotion was erupting in the labs.

“What is the meaning of all this?” The head Officer barked as he stormed into the room. The doctors were all crowded around the glass cell at the center of the room. Most of them were wielding brooms, yard sticks or some sort of long object.

“He won't come down!” The head scientists shouted, waving for the officer to walk over. Sure enough, clutching to the ceiling of the cell, huddled in the far corner, was Peter. He refused to move, pulling his legs as close as possible and making himself appear small.

“What...why are you messing with him in the first place? I thought he didn't have to leave the containment room for the demonstration.” The officer questioned, pushing his way through the irritated scientists so he could get a good look at the stubborn hero.

“Yeah well we want to actually make money tonight. No one is going to believe he's Spider-Man if he doesn't look like Spider-Man.” The doctor reasoned. He lifted a red and blue spandex suit he had been clutching tightly to.

“Put this on you insufferable millennial!” he shouted, waving the suit wildly in the air. The Officer grabbed the fabric, yanking it from the doctor's hand.

“Give me that. Aren't you imbeciles capable of anything?” He marched into the cramped glass room, standing proud as he peered up at the hero.

“Come down. Put this on.” He pointed to the ground like a father scolding a child who had climbed too high. Peter refused to answer him, continuing to cling to the wall as he stared daggers at the man clutching his suit. A shot of warning tingled from the nape of his neck and down his spine with the officer suddenly yanked the gun from his belt and aimed it at the him.

“I said, come down.” He repeated, demanding it like a drill sergeant giving orders. Peter's gaze flashed from the gun to the open door of his cell. If he could somehow make it past the officer, he'd be out of containment and maybe then...he could escape. It was a long shot, especially with the crowd of scientists watching expectantly from behind the glass. But he had to try, he couldn't give in to whatever plans they had in store.

Making a quick decision, Peter mustered whatever energy he had left, which wasn't much. He flung himself off the wall just as the officer fired his gun. The bullet zipped past him, just barely nicking the skin on the side of his leg. It stung, but he couldn't allow himself a moment to even flinch. He catapulted over the officer in a skillful flip, landing nimbly just in front of the open door. He darted for the door, his movements slower than usual. He didn't get too far before he was whacked over the head with the brush end of a broom.

“Get him!” The scientists shouted, swarming around him, blocking his path. Peter struggled, dodging attacks from brooms, yard sticks and other random objects they swung at him. One man leapt at him, bear hugging the hero from behind. He clung on like a backpack but Peter refused to give up, eyes ever on the doors.

He was hit with a sudden wave of nauseating hunger, shooting a sharp surge of pain through his stomach. He grunted in discomfort, faltering for only a moment. The scientists had completely surrounded him, all grabbing onto his arms, clothes, legs, and one even grabbed a fistful of his hair. They were doing anything to subdue the hero. It took all of them to drag him kicking and screaming to the ground.

“The suit! Hand us the suit!” one of them shouted, to which the officer replied by chucking the red and blue spandex into the mob.

Peter shouted and twisted, trying to break free as several men pinned his arms to the ground. Two more grabbed his head, covering his eyes and trying to keep him from thrashing.

“The pants first! Get the pants!” They ordered. Peter kicked as he felt them tugging at the white lab shorts they had given him. Three more men had to put all their weight on his chest and stomach to keep him from squirming away. His pants were successfully removed, and they quickly attempted to slip the bottom half of the suit on him.

All peter could feel were clammy hands grabbing him. They gripped tight around his ankles, knees and thighs, forcing him still. Too close, too cold, too invasive. He felt violated and completely helpless. It seemed like an eternity before the familiar hug of his spandex suit was snug around his waist.

“The top!” They moved, pinning his arms above his head as they shimmied the white top up and off. At this point, Peter would have willingly put on the rest of his suit, anything to prevent being stripped by a mob of icy handed scientists. They were none to gentle with the hero, several of them carelessly jabbing his stitched up wound.

He fought back tears of pain and frustration that threatened to spill over. He was sick of being hurt both physically, mentally and emotionally. He wanted it to end, all of it.

Roughly they fitted him into the spandex, gloves and all before they dragged him back into the glass cage. His mask was chucked in after him before the thick glass doors were shut and locked behind him.

Peter scooped up the mask and willingly slipped it on, he wouldn't complain about being able to hide the defeated expression he was currently sporting. Maybe if he looked the part, he could fool himself into feeling like the brave hero he once was.

On the other side of the glass, the scientists quickly dispersed, preparing for the presentation.

“The guests are arriving now. Be ready when the lights dim. Do not screw this up.” The officer demanded as he stormed from the lab and back to the banquet hall above.

In the banquet hall, things had quickly gotten complicated. Morris had been roped into the role of a greeter. He stood by the dining room entrance checking the invitations of the guests and welcoming them to the event. At first he was ok with this job. It gave him an opportunity to see what connections the branch of Hydra had and what organizations they were cooperating with. However, his nerves quickly got the better of him when the VIP's began to show up.

“N-Norman Osborne...” He tried not to let his hands shake as he took the golden invitation from the CEO of Oscorp. What was a big kahuna like Norman doing at a banquet hosted by a small branch of Hydra?

Morris' heart only quickened as the VIP's continued to flood into the ball room. Aldrich Killian, founder of Advanced Idea Mechanics and creator of the Extremis virus; Darren Cross, otherwise known as super villain Yellowjacket and team member of Cross Technological Enterprises; all of these people were being watched by S.H.I.E.L.D with known criminal involvement.

Morris had to wipe the beads of sweat off his brow when he spied an all too familiar white suited, massive, bald headed man coming down the stairs with his own wall of lackeys. The man retrieved the golden invitation from his pocket, making it look like a mere stamp in his burly hand.

“W-w-welcome K-king Pin.” He practically choked on air as he forced the words from his mouth, avoiding eye contact at all costs. Why hadn't Matt been forced to greet instead of him? The Devil of Hell's kitchen was able to keep his cool under stressed situations.

The ballroom was quickly filling up with many big name villains and hydra agents from around the globe. It was way more intense than Morris had expected, this was big and he was beginning to regret not calling Nick Fury. He glanced about for Matt, hoping for some form of encouragement, but the hero was across the room bustling about with a tray of drinks, serving the very men he fought so hard to see behind bars.

Matt had quickly noticed the guests at the ball, a feeling of dread beginning to pitt in his stomach. They couldn't get caught, not here, not surrounded by hundreds of enemies.

“Wade,” Matt whispered into his ear piece as he slipped back to the waiters table to retrieve more drinks. “It's getting crowded up here. There are some high profiles here, we need to make this operation as quick as possible.” He explained.

“Working on it. Haven't found him yet. I'll let you know as soon as I do.” Wade responded.

By now the ballroom was completely filled, not a single chair was empty. It was a full house and the hydra waiters were scrambling to keep up. Morris joined Matt by the waiters table, quietly conversing over what little information they had gathered.

“You,” A young waitress grabbed Matt's arm, pulling him away from the detective. “Take this.” She shoved a tray of food in his face while somehow managing to balance one on her head, two in her left arm and one more in her right. “This is the vegetarian platter the head of Pierce Chemicals Inc. ordered. He's at table twelve.” She instructed.

“Uh...where?” Matt raised a brow, making sure to train his blind eyes on her.

“He's the only man wearing a bright yellow suit. You could see him from a mile away.” She snorted before turning and hurrying off to deliver her own trays of food. Matt turned, shrugging at Morris who was snickering despite his anxiety.

“Think he'll notice if I spit in his food?” Matt joked as Morris followed behind him, discretely guiding them to the man in the yellow suit. They only got half way across the room when the lights all at once dimmed and the murmurs of conversations died down.

Bright spotlights blinked on, illuminating the small stage. Matt and Morris both stopped in their tracks, turning like the rest of the guests, all drawn to the jittery scientist that stepped into attention.

“Thank you for attending the first ever Apotheke sponsor banquet.” his voice squeaked over the speakers. “While you enjoy your meal we'll entertain you with a demonstration of our product, the new and enhanced Super Soldier Serum. Say goodbye to payed lackeys, hired hit men, and untrustworthy mercenaries. We at Apotheke give you what you need to get your business done quickly, efficiently, and without leaving any evidence behind. Not only is our product untraceable while wiping the mind of the host, the Super Soldier Serum also grants the host incredible power, making even a child strong enough to fend off a hero.” he boasted.

A few skeptical murmurs arose through the dark room, pulling a chuckle from the scientist.

“A bold claim I know, but perhaps you'll change your mind after our demonstration.” He smiled, an evil little thing that made Morris' skin crawl.

There was a loud mechanical whir that rattled the floor and rippled through the air. The guests all glanced about suspiciously, they looked just as on edge as the poor S.H.I.E.L.D detective. Soon all eyes were on the stage again as a glass containment room began to rise out of the floor.

“Ladies and gentlemen, watch and witness as our youngest super soldier single handedly defeats New York's very own...Spider-Man.” He exclaimed.

“Oh no.” Matt muttered, hands clutching tightly onto the tray of food he still held. He glanced to his right, noticing how several of the guests stood from their seats, eyes glued to the stage. Among these were Norman Osborn and Kingpin, scheming smiles etched on their features. Trouble was settling thick in the air, Matt could smell it.

“Wade...we found him. You better hurry, looks like a fight could break loose.” Matt warned, hoping they hadn't gotten in over their heads. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, 
> 
> I'm so so sorry for the wait on this chapter. I had wanted to have it up sometime last week. Sadly i caught some sort of virus and was fighting that off, missed some classes too. Ugh. Anyways I'm feeling better now and am geared up for what's to come. The climax of TCH is like...a chapter away ya'll, I'm so ready for this! 
> 
> On another note, I made a Wonky Writer Instagram account. I mainly made it because I felt so terrible not being able to tell you guys that the chapter was being delayed. I don't want anyone to assume I'm abandoning this. So if you are interested you can give me a follow on there and I'll post random updates about progress and my occasional fan art or what have you. Here's a link. 
> 
> https://www.instagram.com/wonky_writer/
> 
> Before I leave you with a tid-bit, I would like to point out that Peter WAS NOT raped by the scientists. I know Josh said they "Had their way with him." but they did not mess with him like that. If anything Josh was just trying to make Wade madder. Petey is ok, didn't want ya'll getting too heart broken over here. 
> 
> (Also...is there anything more cliche than a formal event half way through a story? lol )
> 
>  
> 
> TID-BIT
> 
> I'm sure you've heard of the Deep Freeze that gripped the midwest earlier this month (and last month). In some places towns were even put on lock down, no one was allowed to be out. Videos of people throwing boiling water into the air and watching it fall to the ground frozen, popped up on social media. It was even said that being outside for longer than 5 minutes (maybe it was 15, can't quite remember) could cause serious frost bite. 
> 
> You would think with such extreme conditions, that everyone would have been prepared for the icy grip of winter. Sadly that is not the case. With most shelters full, some homeless people were forced to tough it out, unsheltered from the harsh weather. Sounds like suicide for temperatures so cold it could give you hypothermia in minutes! Well in the case of the homeless, it was. 
> 
> Reports state that at least 15 homeless people were found frozen to death during the deep freeze. While some have tried to debunk this (don't know why people would lie about this to begin with) Others have claimed that while it doesn't matter how many homeless people suffered at the hands of the cold, it matters that any of them did at all. 
> 
> It just goes to show how sometimes, in the state of an emergency, those less fortunate may not always be on our minds. Now I'm not saying nobody helped these people at all. There are thousands of homeless people and only 15 of them died out in the cold. Where we saw a lack of aid was in the government...again no surprise there. However, whether the government decides to help or not, ultimately it's the heart of man that will aid it's less fortunate brethren.


	13. Party Crashers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade, Matt and Morris find themselves in the middle of pure chaos after a bidding war breaks out amongst the villains over Spider-Man.

{Faster, go faster!} Yellow screamed in the back of his mind as Wade raced through the many halls under the Apotheke dining room. It was like a maze, constructed of random rooms and walkways. He cursed his physical limits, wishing he had been granted the strength of the Hulk or perhaps the Juggernaut, then he could simply leap upwards through the ceiling and rescue Peter with brute strength.

Instead he was forced to run a rat race back towards the doors he had entered.

Although it had only been a few minutes that passed, it felt like an eternity for the mercenary. Each second that he wasn't up there, saving Spidey, was like a year, slowly fading to history, time lost forever.

Relief was a small victory when he finally rounded a corner and spied the doors to the ball room. Already he could hear a commotion of voices, their sound unable to be contained in the acoustics. He darted past other Hydra agents and pushed his way into the massive banquet hall. The echoing crack of the doors swinging back and smacking the walls was drowned out and unnoticed by the crowd of guests. Their eyes were glued to the stage, on the glass cage containing none other than Spider-Man.

Wade's heart leapt in his throat, gaze transfixed on the red and blue figure huddled in the corner of the cell, sad and defeated. His head was tucked into his arms, holding his knees close, trying desperately to ignore the hundreds of eyes on him.

“Spidey.” Wade whispered. It took everything in him to fight the overpowering urge to run to his baby boy. It was like a magnetizing force was pulling, tugging, urging him closer, and each moment he fought it was pure torture.

[Hurry, think of something. That bastard Josh tricked us.] White seethed, snapping Wade back to reality. Sweat began to bead down his brow as he quickly surveyed the room. They were trapped with a smorgasbord of villains who stared down Spidey like a cat stalking a bird. This would be no stealth mission, they were going to have to get creative.

Quickly he scanned the crowd looking for Morris and Matt, but was again distracted when a loud booming voice rang out over the murmur of voices.

“I'll give you $100,000 for Spider-Man.” Wade quickly spun his attention to Norman Osborne who was waving his napkin high in the air. A calm hush fell over the ball room, and even Spider-Man had poked his head up, staring with utter terror at the grinning Green Goblin.

The scientist on the stage fumbled with the microphone, laughing nervously over the speakers.

“Ah, uhm, I'm sorry but we aren't selling him. He's part of the demonstration. However, we'd appreciate that same enthusiasm toward our Syrum, now I'll begin i-”

“I'll pay $300,000” Daren Kross stood at his own table, earning a sharp glare from Mr. Osborne.

“Again, Spider-Man is not for sale, plea-” The scientist went ignored as a betting battle began between the billionaires.

“$500,000!” Aldrich Killian joined in. By now most of the villains could be heard shouting random sums of money into the air, trying desperately to persuade the Hydra scientist into handing the hero over to them.

“I'll give you one million dollars.” King Pin stood, slamming his hands onto his table with such force the wine glasses toppled over. Everyone sucked in a breath, eyes turning to the scientist who had lost all control of the presentation. He avoided the gazes on him and looked to their Officer, pleading for help. The head officer of Apotheke pushed himself out of his chair and leapt onto the stage, taking the microphone from the shaking scientist.

“Is that the best you can give me?” He grinned, staring down the King Pin. “Come on folks, this is the one and only Spider-Man, he's practically an Avenger.”  
Wade could see the horror haunting poor Peter. His limbs quivered as he watched the bids for his ownership rising higher and higher, King Pin constantly a few thousand dollars ahead.

{No one is buying our baby boy!} Yellow hissed, and Wade couldn't agree more. Without thought to his finances, or even how he could escape, Wade ripped off his image inducer, his scarred skin appearing over his features in a wave of static. Josh Rhodes was gone.

“Two million!” King Pin called out, again crushing another opponents bid. The other villains muttered to themselves, wondering if they could afford to win against Wilson Fisk.

“Two million going once, twice, so-”

“Three million!” Wade barked, climbing onto the nearest table, eyes on the prize. It only took a moment, just a brief second for Peter to catch his gaze, and he knew the wall crawler saw him. He could see, after a millisecond a wave of hopefulness poured through the hero and he flung himself from the corner. Peter darted to the glass wall, pounding on it with his fists, wide eyes of the mask staring directly at the unmasked mercenary.

“Wade!” He called, a sob of relief catching in his voice. “Wade.” He repeated, pushing against the glass with what little strength remained in him. It refused to give and Peter was forced to watch the mercenary through a barrier, wanting nothing more than to throw himself into the man's arms. Safe at last.

He offered a kind knowing smile, hoping to calm the hero as he beat on the glass desperately. He was going to get him out, even if he had to fork over three million dollars for him.

“That's Wade Wilson.” King Pin suddenly shouted, pointing his sausage like fingers at Wade as he stood boldly on the table. “Who hired you?” He spat, voice followed by the sound of guns being cocked and loaded. Slowly Hydra agents began to rise from their seats, guns aimed at the mercenary.

“I have money...and I got it killing people just like you. Don't hate.” He joked, trying not to let his rage and bloodlust become apparent. He had to reign in his wild emotions and play his cards right, otherwise he'd never free Spidey. However, despite his attempts to calm the guests, they were not persuaded into hospitality.

“Get him out of here!” The officer hollered, sicking the waiters and other hydra staff onto the mercenary.

“Shit, what do we do?” Morris hissed, leaning in to whisper to Matt. The lawyer shrugged, listening carefully to the chaos of sounds reverberating through the space.

“This was a stealth mission,” Morris continued, watching as Wade began to battle a few agents while standing his ground on the dining table. “I didn't bring the weapons for this.” He panicked. Matt payed him no mind, head turned as he listened to the footsteps of a waiter racing through the tables towards Wade. He held an automatic rifle, ready to join the hustle against the mercenary.

“Whoops!” Matt exclaimed, swinging the tray of food directly into the agent's head as he raced past them. The waiter tripped, fumbling to the ground, covered in a mess of food and wine. “Didn't see you there.” Matt commented. He stooped down and grabbed the gun, handing it to Morris.

“Come on, no excuses.” Matt ordered, pulling Morris towards the swarm of fighting agents. By now even the Apotheke officer was joining the tussle, infuriated as Wade battled them with ease. He had taken to chucking porcelain plates at his attackers, dodging bullets and landing punches when he could.

Morris quickly raised his weapon, and with a deep gulp, fired into the swarm of agents. He tried his best to aim for knee caps, arms and shoulder's, but their desperate situation caused him to falter. Agents were dropping dead like flies, and soon other villains were rising to end the scuffle. Bullets flew from across the room, most aimed at Wade. Matt skillfully protected the detective with his metal tray as they advanced closer to the mercenary.

With the fight distracting most everyone in the room, King Pin hurried from his table, running towards the stage. He neared the glass, backhanding the Hydra scientist so hard he flew into the far wall, ring indents bruising his face. Peter scurried to the far side of the cage when the white suited man cracked his knuckled and sent a punch into the glass. A single crack ruptured from where Wilson Fisk's diamond ring had made contact with glass. It skirted along the walls of the cage before the villain sent a second jab into the same spot.

The wall shattered, sharp shards rained down and scattered across the stage floor. The sound of the breaking glass was enough to alert the guests, drawing their attention back to the stage. Norman Osborne rose from the crowd, charging towards Fisk who stepped into the glass container, and grabbed Peter by the waist as the frightened hero attempted to make a run for it.

“Oh no you don't!” Norman growled, reaching into his pocket for a smoke grenade. However, he was quickly intercepted by Fisk's men. The King Pin laughed, a booming sound that shook the room. His double handed grip on Spidey's waist was tight as a vice, preventing him from squirming away. Peter kicked, punched, and wriggled with all his might, but even at full strength King Pin had always been a powerful foe.

The wound in his side ached and throbbed from the pressure of being squeezed and he cried out in pain, gripping the man's wrists as a feeble attempt to get him to loosen his hold.

Across the room Wade was boiling over with rage, spurred by the site of King Pin trying to claim Peter for his own. He ignored the fresh sting of a bullet as it ripped into his side and tore his tux. Instead he flipped off the table and over the heads of the many hydra agents huddled around him. He b-lined it towards King Pin, vaulting over chairs and tables. But the Hydra agents weren't the only ones on his heals and he soon found himself in a fist fight with the Apotheke officer.

The room erupted into pure chaos as tussles arose at every corner. Morris was gunning down the Hydra agents while Matt skillfully protected him with nothing but a dinner tray. Norman Osborne were dueling with his own ring of Fisk's cronies while Wade wrestled the head officer. Meanwhile, other guests swarmed for the exit or hid under tables. Daren Kross and Aldrich Killian were the only men keeping King Pin from making his escape. They tag teamed the burly man, both with every intention of taking Spidey for themselves.

“Stand down boys.” Fisk snarled, grabbing a table in one hand and chucking it like a frisbee at Daren Kross who had changed into his Yellowjacket suit. He narrowly dodged the massive thing, shrinking down to size before popping back up behind Fisk.

“What makes you think you can take Spider-Man all for yourself?” He remarked, using the stingers on his suit to shoot a barrage of blue energy pulses at King Pin's back. They burned through his suit, but were no match for his durable Kevlar vest hidden underneath.

“What makes you think you can stop me?” Fisk laughed matter of factually, spinning around to face him. He looped his thumb under his jacket, pressing the back of the diamond pin adorning his lapel. A puff of grey smog seeped into the air aiming right for Yellowjacket. The other villain didn't have time to dodge before the powerful chemical compound seeped through his suit and into his system. It was a matter of seconds before he stumbled on his feet and fell backwards atop one of the dining tables. However, Daren Kross wasn't the only one hit by the sleeping gas. Having been held so close to the King Pin's body, Peter had inhaled a lung full of the stuff and was desperately trying to fight it's drowsing effect.

His body was growing weak and heavy, his limbs becoming numb. His frantic struggles to free himself dwindled and he soon slumped over in the villains strong grasp. King Pin only chuckled, feeling the fight in the hero die, it was all too easy, no one there could match his strength.

“Yellowjacket's down!” Matt called as he smacked the silver tray over the last hydra agent's head. There were piles of them heaped up throughout the dining hall. A few cowardly waiters trembled behind tables and hid in corners, avoiding the fight at all costs. All that remained of the Hydra branch was the head officer who had a pair of scarred hands wrapped tightly around his neck.

Wade growled, spurred on by his emotions as his grip on the officer strengthened. He wanted them to suffer, all of them, just like Peter had.  
{If only we had a storage unit to put this guy in. We could make him howl in pain!} Yellow sneered.

[We don't have time for that. Kill him quickly so we can get the hell out of here.] White huffed, but Wade was lost to them. He was too focused on the way the man's mouth desperately tried to swallow air and the way his eyes grew red and strained. The Officer clawed at Wade's wrists, unable to accept death. In one last attempt to break free he reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a syringe.

Wade didn't realize until the needle was inches deep in his bicep that he had been stabbed. He snapped from the sadistic trance like hold that was over him and chuckled as the officer tried to gouge the needle further, forcing a bubbly substance into his muscles.

“Really? You keep random syringes in your pocket? That's not creepy at all.” He remarked, unfaltering in his lethal grip around the officer's wind pipe. The officer's eyes slowly rolled up, his hand releasing the syringe and falling limp by his side. The vile tumbled to the ground, bursting and spilling the frothy liquid across the mercenaries shoe. Wade ignored the substance and held the officer's throat for another few seconds before shoving the lifeless man down among his fallen agents.

Gun shots to his left alerted him to the battle raging between King Pin and everyone else. Behind him Norman had his hands full with Fisk's agents and was failing to ward them off, if anything he appeared to be on the losing side. Wade ignored the man and watched instead as Morris used his remaining bullets in an attempt to gun down Fisk. The projectiles ricocheted off the man's Kevlar vest, having no effect. That's when Matt sprang back into action.

The blind lawyer leapt onto a table and flipped himself onto Fisk's shoulder's, looking akin to a monkey piggy backing an elephant. He reached into his disheveled vest and whipped out a silver fork and steak knife, digging them deep into Fisk's shoulder's just where the Kevlar vest ended.

Fisk roared in anger, swinging his left arm in an attempt to swat off Matt, but the lawyer stuck like glue. Aldrich Killian saw his chance and lunged forward, his fist glowing orange with heat as he tried to punch Fisk in the gut. He made contact and a loud crack echoed through the room as Fisk took a stumbling step back. Killian's eyes went wide as a surge of pain shot up through his arm and lingered around his wrist. Fisk's body was like a brick wall and punching him had achieved nothing but a shattered hand.

“Weak!” Fisk laughed, regaining his balance as he glared down at Killian. “You can't defeat me.” He smirked, ready to backhand Killian the same way he had the scientist.  
A small tear that had dribbled down Killian's cheek suddenly sizzled and evaporated into a puff of steam as the man's whole body began to glow molten hot. Matt could hear the flames rising in Killian's throat and flung himself off King Pin just in time. A searing breath of boiling flames erupted from Killians gullet, causing King Pin to drop Spider-Man as he attempted to shield his own face.

Morris immediately saw his chance and dove into the action, grabbing Spidey by the ankle and dragging him unnoticed away from the fight. The detective panicked and slid under the first table he saw, pulling the unconscious hero along with him. He tugged the table cloth down, hiding them from the eyes of Fisk and Killian.

Wade had seen the whole thing, relieved his baby boy was finally out of the hands of King Pin.

[Yeah but either Killian or Fisk will win that fight, and when they do the winner will be looking for Spidey. They're going to find him.] White reasoned.

“I can't defeat King Pin...not without any weapons. He's practically as strong as the Hulk.” Wade thought.

{Fight with your brain then...that's a weapon too right?} Yellow suggested, not entirely sure if he was being helpful. {Maybe we can trick them into thinking they have Spidey somehow...}

[The image inducer!] White barked and Wade immediately pulled it from his pocket. He grabbed the first unconscious agent he could find and quickly hooked them up with the device. After pressing a few buttons and changing the program, a static of pixels covered the man and in the blink of an eye he was wearing the red and blue spandex suit, mask and all.

In this moment, Killain had begun to burn everything within spitting distance. Tables, chairs, and dead agent's burst into flames, along with King Pin's suit. The hefty man quickly shrugged off his dress jacket and chucked the engulfed fabric at Killain, momentarily blocking his fire breath. In that split second window King Pin charged, smashing into the smaller man and bulldozing him like a sapling.

The angered super villain crushed Killain beneath his immense weight and began to pummel his face through the burned jacket. At first Killain flailed his arms, screaming in shock after the first blow, but his voice soon died into meaningless gurgles. Before long he was nothing but a motionless corpse that squelched and oozed crimson as King Pin continued to savagely beat him, blind with fury. He didn't stop until the jacket was soaked with fluids and brain matter could be seen seeping out from under it.

Then he turned, panting from rage fueled adrenaline, and scanned the room looking for the unconscious hero. He found him, cradled in the mercenaries arms as he limped towards the exit, dripping blood from the multiple bullet wounds slowly healing across his body.

“Wade!” Fisk shouted, his voice boomed through the empty air. King Pin ignored Matt who watched him carefully, spoon in hand. He ignored Norman Osborne, finally losing to his men. Instead his attention was completely focused on Wade Wilson hobbling faster towards the exit with Spider-Man.

“You have something that belongs to me.” Fisk continued to call, following behind the mercenary.

“He doesn't belong to you!” Wade retorted, growling as he turned to face the villain. Fisk's white suit jacket was gone, his Kevlar vest stained with blood. Red liquid dripped from his clenched fists and some was stained over his frowning face.

“Why are you involving yourself with him? If someone hired you to get rid of him, you can tell them you completed your mission. He'll be dead when I'm done with him.” Fisk snorted, trying to figure out how the mercenary factored into all of this.

“I wasn't hired to kill him. He's a friend.” Wade spat in response.

“A friend!?” Fisk laughed, his face splitting into a smile. “I always thought your humor was dry and crude, but this joke was actually funny. You're getting better at it.” He was met with a sharp glare from Wade who let him know he was anything but joking. Fisk sneered.

“You can't be serious.” He growled before roughly grabbing Wade by the head and yanking Spider-Man out of his arms. “You're a fool Wade Wilson. I know you. I'm sure you remember working for me.” He grunted, shoving the mercenary to the ground. “I've seen the wild in your eyes, seen it emerge like an unforgiving storm on friend and foe alike. You are feral, uncooperative, unstable, you have no business pretending to have friends. You aren't capable of long term relationships of any kind. How many teams have you been a part of? How many teams have abandoned you? How many allies have _you_ abandoned? The only thing you're true to is your bloodlust. You can't contain it and it always comes back to haunt you.” He pressed his foot onto Wade's abdomen, using just enough pressure to keep him pinned down.

{Hey! Only we can trash talk him like that! Who do you think you are!?}

[Yeah, we know how horrible we are, we don't need a reminder! No matter how correct you may be.] White barked.

“I've changed. People can change. You of all people should know, you weren't born a heartless asshole.” Wade spat back.

“I wasn't, but you were. You've always been like this, an unstable monster. It just took your body sometime to properly represent what was festering on the inside of your heart all along. It's ugly and unwanted.” Fisk grinned, glancing down at the unconscious hero in his grip then back to Wade.

“Were you seeking redemption? Did you think he could change you? Teach you what it's like to be good...to feel wanted, important...loved? There's no cure for your curse, Wade Wilson, there's no happy ending. So here's some advice,” He leaned down close, pressing the air out of the mercenary, “stop searching for once.” He stood abruptly after that, seeing the broken expression on the man's face. It made him smile. There was no point in killing Wade, he would only forget the speech that had destroyed him, leaving him worse off than Aldrich Killian.

It was all Wade could do but lie there, stunned, eyes trailing after Fisk as he ascended the stairs and left Apotheke, his henchmen following close behind. It was Matt that finally moved, daring to take a breath.

“He took my fork...” He muttered to himself, dusting as much rubble and blood off his vest as he possibly could.

“Is...is it finally over?” Morris' voice called out from under the table where he still cowered with the real Spider-Man.

“I think so.” Matt answered, poking at Norman Osborn who had been beat to a pulp and left motionless by the henchmen. “And this idiot was going to fight Fisk.”

  
Wade slowly pushed himself from the floor, trying and failing to silence the boxes that had taken what Fisk had said and ran with it.

[He's right! What have we been thinking? How could we let ourselves be fooled this whole time!? We could never be good enough for Spidey. We are horrible, we killed Josh Rhodes, we just strangled that officer and unalived like ten other agents tonight. Spider-Man would be so upset. We haven't changed at all, and we are incapable.] White ranted.

{But...but Spidey believes in us, he knows we can do better.} Yellow's voice was weak.

[Will he think that when he wakes up!? Huh!? Will he think that after we tell him that we stalked him and found out his secret identity even after he told us not to? Will he forgive us for killing those agents when he wasn't around? Probably not! It's over.]

{W-what should we do?}

“Shutup!” Wade hissed, shaking his head as he trudged back towards the table Morris and Spidey were under.

[What can we do? We got carried away like always. We should just give up. We would be more help to Spidey if we just left him alone.]

{But he has nobody! We rented the hotel! We made a decision, I'm not letting us go back on it! We are taking him to that hotel and getting him out of the streets!}Yellow screamed back, irritated with White.

“Please...be quiet. Just...let me think please.” Wade wanted to enjoy the heroic moment. He wanted to finally have his baby boy in his arms and held close to his heart where he belonged. He wanted to tuck him snug into the plush hotel bed and cook him food. He wanted to give him all the love he had been bottling deep down. But the boxes were doing nothing but chipping away at his resolve, and he was beginning to get second thoughts.

Luckily, when Morris finally emerged from his hiding spot, dragging Spidey along with him, the boxes went quiet.

“I can't believe we just did that. Just the tree of us...we're like...a team!” Morris exclaimed, heart still racing from the near death experience. He was overcome with relief and squeezed Matt up in a sloppy hug.

“Ugh,” Matt grumbled, “No wonder they don't give you missions. I can't imagine Nick Fury likes hugs.”

“Oh! Fury! I've...I've got to call him! I need them to send over some clean up.” Morris quickly released Matt who reluctantly handed him his phone.

“I'm so sick of smoke.” Matt huffed, covering his nose from the smog caused by the burning tables and chairs on the other side of the dining hall. The whole place had been turned upside down as if a tornado had ripped the room to shreds. Tables were overturned in every direction, shattered plates and spilled food mixed with the bodies and crimson puddles on the floor. The stage was adorned in glass shards and the stench of blood hung heavy in the air.

There was no remark from Wade as he slowly stooped and scooped up Spider-Man, cradling him gently.

“Should we get him to a hospital?” Morris questioned as he hung up the phone. Nick was never one for long conversations.

“No.” Wade grunted, “I got him, he'll be alright.”

[Will he though? What can we even do for him?]

{Don't...}

Wade frowned, turning his back on the lawyer and detective as he hurried for the exit. He needed to get out of there, needed to sift through his own thoughts and figure out the best course of action.

[What's best for Spidey...not for us.]

{He needs someone to take care of him.} Yellow pleaded. Wade shook his head, trying to distract himself with the knowledge that Peter was safe now, he was free and everything would be alright for him. He stopped at the base of the stairs, unable to block White and Yellow's voices no matter how hard he tried. They were right...Fisk was right. He was a monster, and Spidey needed someone to look after him.

“Matt...” He called turning and catching the man's attention. “Come with me...I'll need your help.” The lawyer was quick to follow, sensing an unsettling air surrounding the mercenary. What was wrong now? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this chapter was so short, but my plans for the next chapter changed (for the better) And I wanted it to be it's own thing instead of split in two, so that's why this one is on the shorter side. 
> 
> Matt and Morris are my precious comic reliefs, I cherish them :')
> 
> Also I just might end up posting something on the instagram page to celebrate reaching 10,000 reads. Like...is that something people celebrate? Lol I have no clue but I never expected TCH to get that many reads. Thank you guys! Ya'll are the absolute best!
> 
> TID-BIT  
> (it's a sad one)
> 
> There are many dangers that come with being homeless, human trafficking is one of them. 
> 
> One of the populations most vulnerable to human trafficking are runaways and homeless youth. In fact, one in three teenagers will be approached by a trafficker within 48 hours of being homeless. 
> 
> Human trafficking is broken up into two categories, Sex trafficking and Labor trafficking. Most sex trafficking happens to people under the age of 18. Some people say that homeless youth may be performing sexual acts in order to survive. Although that may be true, "Sex for Survival" is only 1 of 11 different DMST (Domestic Minor Sex Trafficking) & CSEC (Commercial Sexual Exploitation of Children) types.


	14. The Note/ It's (not) Better This Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade makes a tough decisions that will come to bite him in the ass. Well...really it's just Matt, trying to show him how terribly wrong he is.

“Wade! Wade!” Peter was back in that glass cell, watching through fogged vision as the mercenary battled through an army of men, slowly drawing closer and closer. It was agonizingly slow, like watching an ant trying to fight it's way through hardening sap. No matter how hard he pounded on the glass, no matter how loud he screamed the man's name, Wade couldn't hear him.

His vision was obstructed by a dark shadow looming over him and he quickly looked up, gasping in horror at the massive figure of King Pin, sneering at him through the glass. The man didn't even have to move as the walls crumbled away like dust in the wind, leaving no barrier between them.

Peter shook, sweating and cowering in fear as that burly hand reached for him slowly.

“Wade!' He cried again before everything abruptly froze around him and began to fade away in a smog. He was hyper aware of his surroundings, beginning to feel, smell and hear things that weren't there; cars, honking and rattling as they cruised on streets somewhere, and a soft warmth that weighed on him and soothed his soars.

However, it was the smells that had his mind slowly creeping to reality. Food, somewhere in the waking world, there was food.

Peter's eye's began to flutter open and he quickly made the realization his mask was on, and he was staring at a strange room through the lenses. He figured he should have been shocked, startled and scared, but the last thing he could remember was watching Wade desperately trying his best to save him, and he trusted Wade.

Happiness swelled in his heart as he slowly pushed himself up in the strange bed he awoke in. The top half of his suit was folded and sitting in a bed side chair, his stitches had been cleaned and re-bandaged, but, he was alone.

“Wade?” Petter tried his voice as he took in all the details of the room. It was big, it was clean and it was...empty. There was no response. Still, Peter couldn't muster any other emotion besides pure excitement. Where was he? It didn't matter, clearly Wade had brought him hear, fixed him up and let him rest. No doubt the mercenary was in the kitchen cooking that delicious food Peter could smell.

Quickly he stood out of bed and began to pace the room after pulling his suit top back on. Was this Wade's house? Was now the time to finally tell the mercenary what he had been keeping bottled up? What would the man have to say? Peter's mind raced with ideas until his stomach growled and the tantalizing smell of breakfast was too much for him to ignore.

Filled with glee and anticipation, Peter pulled open the bedroom door and stepped out into the hall, quickly racing for the kitchen. Oddly enough, it too was empty and totally clean, but the smell of bacon was strong. On the counter was a silver tray covering a plate of food, “Spidey” stuck to it with a sticky note.

Without question Peter snatched it up and began to dig in, hardly giving himself time to taste the stuff. But he knew it was good. Just having food in his stomach was enough to make him want to cry of pure joy, he really needed to thank the mercenary. As he shoveled the last pieces into his mouth and slipped his plate in the sink, he again began to wonder where on earth Wade was hiding. Clearly he had just been in the kitchen, the eye of the stove was still warm for crying out loud.

“Wade?” He called again, pausing and quietly listening for a response, or any noise for that matter. There was nothing. Determined, he went down the adjacent hall, clearly he wasn't in the living room. He knocked on the other bedroom door,

“Wade you in there?” He pressed his ear to it, listening through his mask. No breathing, no movement, no nothing. Just to be certain, he slowly twisted the nob and slipped his head through the crack. Empty. The bed was made, didn't even look like it had been touched.

Figuring the man had simply stepped out, Peter returned to the living room, deciding to wait it out on the couch. That's when he finally spied a note on the coffee table, held down under a thick billfold.

“What the?” He muttered, sitting down on the sofa and grabbing the letter, trying his best not to count how much money Wade had irresponsibly left lying around. He turned his attention to the letter instead, quietly reading it to himself.

 

_**”Spidey** _

_**I promised you last time I would leave you a letter, I owe you that much at least. Actually...I owe you a lot. I think an apology would be the best place to start. I'm sorry for a lot of things.”** _

 

Peter paused, reading back over the first line. He had promised him a letter before? He couldn't recall when. Already he was starting to get a bad feeling about everything and he crossed his fingers, hoping the rest of the letter went on to explain how Wade was gone to pick up groceries or lightbulbs or detergent.

_**“So I guess I'll go ahead and get the apologies out of the way first. I'm sorry I wasn't able to keep to your no killing rule. I unalived a few people after you got kidnapped...ok maybe a lot of people. But they were bad and they deserved it! They were Hydra agents and kidnapped you and I shouldn't need a better reason than that. But you have a heart of gold and I know you would have left them alive. I'm sorry to disappoint you Spidey.”** _

Peter groaned, beginning to dread what the rest of the letter might say. He knew he should be upset at the mercenary, really scold him for letting his rage take over, but how could he? How could he be disappointed when Wade had done everything in his power to get him back? How could he be anything but grateful? He wanted to grab the mercenary by the hand, intertwine their fingers and let him know it was ok. He shook his head and sighed, going back to the letter.

_**“This will be the hardest letter I've written once it's done, and I know telling you this will completely ruin our friendship. I'm sorry...I'm so sorry Peter. I know, I know everything. I know your name, your face, I know you've been living in a tent for a while now. And I'm so sorry...”** _

Peter had to put the letter down, feeling his heart rate rising through the roof. Embarrassment? Shame? Betrayed? He wasn't sure what he was feeling and he quickly had to yank his mask all the way off in order to gulp in some air. Wade knew, and Peter found it hard to grip that reality. Hurt, that's what swelled in his chest and made him want to scream. It bubbled tears at the brims of his eyes that overflowed and trickled down his cheeks. How could he? How could Wade break his trust, especially on something that was so important to him. It took everything in him to wipe his tears and pick the letter back up.

_**“...but I couldn't bare not knowing what was wrong. There were so many signs that something was off. You were so hungry you even ate a burrito out of my hands Petey. You couldn't think straight or fight, you were weak and tired and once I swore you smelled like a dumpster. But you wouldn't tell me and I couldn't stand to see you suffering anymore. I know that's just an excuse, and I probably should have asked you. I broke your trust, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry that when I found out I was too scared to help you the right way. I was too scared of telling you the truth, too scared to do what's right. I'm a coward...”** _

Peter took a slow inhale, trying to reign in his emotions and swirling thoughts. With each word he read his anger dissipated. How could he blame Wade for caring enough about his health and safety to jeopardize their friendship? He couldn't. He remembered the night with the burrito, chuckling to himself as a cherry blush tented his cheeks. He recalled how Wade desperately tried to buy him food day after day. The decked out tent, that had to have been Wade, no questioning it now. He had taken care of his wounds and didn't pressure Peter into telling more than he wanted, didn't try to force a confession out of him. How many other times had he attempted to aid Peter without him knowing?  
If anything, knowing all this made him feeling overwhelmingly guilty. All Wade wanted to do was help him, he cared, he cared a whole lot. Peter had been so closed off and untrusting that Wade was forced to discover what was happening all on his own. It ate Peter up inside. He needed the mercenary to come through the door, needed to fling himself at his feet and apologize. Wade wasn't the one who needed to write a sorry letter, it was Peter.  
“Oh Wade,” he sighed heavily, “Hurry up and come back to I can tell you my truth.” He grumbled. He owed it to him, to reveal his long time blossoming feelings. That was one secret he would tell Wade himself. He turned back to the letter,

 **_“...I avoided it all in order to save myself. But I realized I couldn't save myself and save you too. So I'm laying it all out there. I'm sorry for breaking my promise, I'm sorry for lying to you, I'm sorry for ruining your trust in me. I know I'm past redemption now, I screwed the pooch. Even when I try to do good, I only do bad. I've hurt you so much already and I can't bare to hurt you anymore Petey. You won't have to worry about me telling your secret. And you won't have to worry with me bothering you anymore. But I want to make sure you get back on your feet. I've payed for this hotel room and there's eleven days left on it. The fridge is packed with food, the closet has clothes, I've left you the rest of my cash. It should be enough for whatever else you need. Take care of yourself Peter..._ ** **_It's better this way..._ **  
****

**_Love,_                                    **  
**_Wade Winston Wilson_**

  
Peter couldn't breath, feeling a tight constricting in his air way. This wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening. He read the last paragraph over and over until tears re-blurred his vision and fell to the paper, smudging the ink. Wade couldn't be gone he just...couldn't.

A sob escaped him as he stood and ran for the bathroom. His stomach was in knots and he felt completely sick. He collapsed, leaning on the toilet as his breakfast made a quick dash for his mouth. Panic overcame him as his guts attempted to vomit themselves out of his body. His head was dizzy and when it was all done, he crumpled onto the floor, leaning against the wall with his hands pressed against his eyes. The tears wouldn't stop, his throat was burning, his heart was racing and all he wanted, all he needed was Wade to come back.

He had waited, dreamt of him when he was kept hostage in that tiny cell. The very idea of the mercenary comforted him to sleep on the hard ground of his tent. The overwhelming ache when he had disappeared without a word for months had kept him up at night.

“You said you w-wouldn't hurt me again.” He sobbed, voice trapped in the empty bathroom, “but this...this hurts so bad.” He let his head flop onto the plush shower rug, curling in on himself. “H-how is it better this w-way?” The pain in his chest was overwhelming, like his heart and lungs were in a competition with each other, seeing who could kill Peter faster.

“I forgive you Wade,” he hiccuped quietly, “just please come back, don't leave me again.” his voice died into pitiful whimpers, “please, I don't want to be alone.” Long pain staking minutes rolled by, each one feeling like an eternity as he silently prayed Wade would come back, change his mind, maybe forget he left something, anything to give Peter the chance to see him. Anything, he would take anything.

The sound of the apartment door unlocking and swinging open was music to his ears, making his heart flutter with hope. Immediately he pushed himself off the floor, flushed the toilet, gurgled water from the sink and desperately tried to wipe the redness from his eyes. He could hear footsteps walking through the kitchen, it was him. He was back.

“Wade!” Peter exclaimed, flinging the bathroom door open and practically tearing through the floor boards as he raced from the bedroom and towards the kitchen.

“Wade don't leave! I'm not mad! Please, Wade I-” He came to a sudden halt when the red clad hero standing in his kitchen was not the hero he was hoping it to be.

“D-daredevil.” Peter stated in disbelief before remembering his mask was not on. “Ah wait don't look my mask it's...” he flung his hands up to cover his face.

“Are you serious?” Matt huffed, folding his arms. “Don't worry, Spider-Man, I won't tell the world how different your voice sounds with your mask off.”

“Oh...” Peter let his hands drop, feeling dumb for his over reaction. He knew he should ask the lawyer what he was doing there, or at least say hi, but all he wanted to do was curl up in the bed and fall into a forgetful sleep until the feeling of heartache faded.

“You ok? Smells like...acid. Did you vomit? Are you sick? Did they inject you with something at that lab?” He placed the grocery bags he had been carrying down on the counter and hurried up to Peter. He removed his glove and pressed his bare hand to his forehead lightly.

“I'm fine. W-what are you doing here?” Peter willed himself to speak, grabbing the lawyers wrist and pushing it away gently.

“Deadpool asked me to check in on you, make sure you woke up feeling ok and had everything you needed. He also said I needed to pick up detergent or something? So you can wash clothes I guess.” Matt shrugged, returning to the counter to empty the bags.

“You spoke to Wade!? When? Where is he?” Peter perked up, hurrying to the counter, another glimmer of hope presenting itself.

“Yeah, we talked last night before he left. I'm not sure where he went but he said he'd be gone for a while. Said he might not be back. I didn't really care so I didn't really ask.” Matt grunted, stocking the fridge with more snacks for the web head.

“H-he might not come back?” Peter's eyes widened and he could feel it starting again. The pain, the suffocation, the utter loneliness. The redness in his eyes worsened as fresh tears surfaced. “He has to come back...I can't...I can't...oh god Wade.” He fell to his knees holding his head, it was too much. His muscles were growing stiff, his head was pounding and his heart wouldn't stop twisting itself like a spring.

Matt immediately rushed to his side, rubbing his back awkwardly, unsure of what to even do in the situation.

“What's wrong? Do you feel ill? At least go to the bathroom if you need to vomit again. I may have told Wade I'd help you out a bit, but I'm not about to clean up vomit.” He tried to get Peter to stand.

“I'm...I'm not sick. I just...want Wade to come back.” He wailed. Matt was silent, using his other senses to try and read the signs Spidey's body was giving off. He could smell cortisol, epinephrine, stress hormones that seeped out in his sweat, he reeked of them. He could feel trimmers shaking the smaller males' body. He could hear his heart beating much faster than normal.

“Panic attack...” Matt concluded to himself, not too pleased with his discovery as he realized he had no clue what to do to help.

“Let's get you in bed ok. It'll pass, it'll be over soon.” He assured Peter, gingerly pulling him to his feet and leading him through the apartment to the bedroom. Peter collapsed onto the bed as Matt threw the comforter over him and patted his head. He let Peter squeeze his other hand tightly while he struggled through the attack and tried to find his breath.

“It'll be alright.” Matt said, cursing the mercenary for leaving. It was obvious to him that Spidey wanted to see Wade, and something about him being gone had upset the hero enough to make him fall into full anxiety.

“It's going to be ok.” Matt repeated...except it wasn't. Peter's frantic state of mind lasted the entire day, and when he awoke the next morning, he was in a sluggish, zombie like stupor. Matt had stayed the night, taking the other bedroom, he couldn't leave the poor hero when he was so clearly distressed. However, try as he might, Matt couldn't get Peter to talk to him for more than a few minutes. Everyday that week he came back to check on Spider-Man, and every time he swore things were getting worse.

He wouldn't talk, he hardly ate and most hours he'd spend on the balcony just staring out at the street bellow. His mannerisms changed. Instead of shaky and hot to the touch, he was cold and slow in his movements. Instead of an accelerated heart beat and the scent of stress lingering on him, his heart was at resting pace and Matt began to notice a lack of serotonin in him. Sad...Peter was horribly sad.

“You going to patrol tonight?” Matt asked when he entered the apartment on the eighth day. He was on the balcony again, this time crouched on the edge in his super suit.

“Yeah.” Peter mumbled in response, not bothering to turn and greet the other man.

“You probably shouldn't go out without eating something.” Matt sighed, stepping through the living room to stand behind Peter.

“Not hungry.”

“Yeah but you need to eat or you won't have enough energy to-”

“Can't eat right now, no appetite.” Peter cut him off dryly before leaping over the edge and thwipping a web too close to the ground for comfort. Matt stood on the balcony a moment longer, until the sound of Peter's heart was out of range and he was off, lost somewhere to the concrete jungle.

Matt wanted to get back to his own patrolling, watching his little corner of New York. But sensing the depression like state Peter was in kept him tethered at the apartment, anxiously waiting for the hero's safe return.

It was hours later, in the first spell of morning when Spidey finally crawled onto the balcony, waking Matt from his slumber on the sofa.

“What time is it?” Matt groaned, his red suit was anything but comfortable sleep ware.

“Four AM.” Peter wheezed, clutching the side of his arm. He limped into the living room, groaning with every step.

“What happened to you? I could have patrolled with you. You're starting to worry me...” Matt sat up, listening to the nearly silent pop of Peter's shoulder. It had been smacked out of and back into joint, no doubt it hurt like hell.

“It's fine, you don't have to wait for me. I'll be ok.” Peter hobbled to the kitchen. He pulled the fridge door open, stared at the many choices of drinks, snacks and leftovers Matt had made. Then, with a sigh he let it close as he trudged towards the hallway empty handed.

“I'm going to sleep.” He announced, sounding just as defeated as ever. Matt listened as the door clicked shut and he was left in the barren apartment again. Something had to be done, he feared for Spidey's health and safety. He left, knowing the hero would never open up to him. He wasn't sure how, but Wade had apparently broken the web slinger's heart, and clearly only he could fix it.

Peter laid awake in bed, staring at the window on the far wall. The covers were pulled up to his ear, but the bed was so cold. He had a place to stay now, a roof over his head, more food than he could ever need and plenty of cash in his pocket. But why...why did he still feel so alone, so unwanted, abandoned, and even more homeless then he was living in the Tent City? Disappointment came with every morning when he awoke and found the apartment empty, no Wade. He had felt as if the mercenary was the only person in the world who truly cared a thing about him, cared how he felt and what happened to him...and he was gone now too. The pain was exhausting and Peter closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep before he succumbed to sorrowful sobs.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Matt found himself waiting outside his own apartment building, leaning against the wall in his Daredevil suit. He was at the end of his rope when it came to Spider-Man, and he saw no other way than calling for the help of a particular S.H.I.E.L.D agent.

He recognized the man's familiar sent when his car turned onto the block and pulled to a stop near him.

“Get in.” Morris shouted, rolling down the window so Matt could better hear him. “So what exactly did you want to see Mr. Fury for?” He questioned once the hero was safely buckled and they were on the road.

“I need to know where Deadpool is, if anyone is going to know then it'll be him. I'm sure he keeps tabs on just about everybody.” Matt huffed, folding his arms in annoyance.

“Why not ask Spider-Man? Seems like the two are always together. You would think he'd know how to a get a hold of him.” Morris suggested, zipping through the streets and onto the highway.

“Yeah well he left the other day, didn't tell me or Spidey where he was headed. Spider-Man isn't taking it well...he's hurting. I don't know what's going on between those two, some unresolved business or unspoken thing. Either way, Wade needs to fix whatever mess he's caused.”

Morris nodded in understanding despite having absolutely no clue what the lawyer was talking about.

“Well, I'm sure Fury will be able to help. When I left they told me he was in a meeting, who knows how long he'll be in it. But while we wait I can show you my new office!” He exclaimed, face lighting up with glee. “Fury was more than pleased with us taking down that whole Hydra branch and gave me an official promotion. Now I have my own office and everything!”

“Good to know he's finally seeing your potential.” Matt teased. Morris continued to chatter the hero's ears off until they pulled into the secret S.H.I.E.L.D facility outside of New York. He guided him from the car, through the building and into a bustling floor that was crawling with S.H.I.E.L.D agents.

“Just this way, we can wait in here.” Morris smiled, gesturing towards a humble office against the wall. It was a small thing, crammed in the corner like an afterthought. Two potted plants stood outside the doors as if someone was trying to hide the fact there was even a door there at all. But Morris, the oblivious idiot, was proud of his tiny square office and gladly showed it off to the hero.

“I got this super comfy chair you can wait in, had to fight someone over it. And have you ever seen a computer this high tech?” He squealed, eyes sparkling with excitement. “I had to read a manual and take a class on how to even use it.” He sighed.

“Sounds nice.” Matt nodded, taking a seat in the orange pleather chair Morris had offered him.

“So uh...how long till Fury is free?” He asked, fingers crossed that he wouldn't be there all day. Spidey needed help and he needed it fast. Already the afternoon was beginning to slip away and he was hoping he could catch the hero and tell him where Wade was before he left to go patrolling.

“He'll be out soon. His office is just down that way and you can see him if he leaves.” Morris pointed through the glass door to a tinted office across the way. It was impossible to see inside, but he had a feeling Fury could see everything going on. Whatever the office walls were made of, Matt couldn't even sense through them. He had no way of hearing voices or heartbeats, sensing heat signatures or natural smells. Fury had really prepared for everything when it came to his privacy.

“Are you sure he is even in there?” Matt snorted, frustrated at whatever material was blocking his enhanced senses.

“Yup.” Morris nodded before grabbing a frame on his desk and staring at it fondly. “This is my dog!” he exclaimed, beginning to ramble on. He was clearly too overjoyed with the fact he finally had a visitor in his office. “I know you can't see him but he's literally the best thing. When he licks his nose his lips get stuck on his under bite and he looks like a grumpy troll. It's the cutest thing ever.” He sighed, gently setting the photo back down on his desk.

Matt hardly gave him any mind, focusing completely on Fury's office.

“And when he runs his ears flop backwards and get stuck inside out.” He chuckled. “He really hates squeaky toys so it takes me forever to find chew toys that don't make any sounds but also...” he was cut off as Matt abruptly stood, the office door across the room finally swinging open. Immediately Matt was hit with a load of information that he quickly tried to process.

The sound of a voice whispering, he easily recognized it to be Fury, leaning in to give one last remark to the person he had been meeting with.

“Remember, next time don't leave such a bloody mess and I'll pay you more.” Matt heard him say before patting the other person's shoulder. He could hear Fury's hand make contact with the strangers clothes, it was leather. Leather stained with the gruesome scent of blood, gunpowder and sweat. He had smelled that before.

“No promises.” The other man replied and Matt immediately bolted from the room, pinning the voice as Wade Winston Wilson's. He had no need to speak with Fury, Wade was who he had been looking for.

“Wade!” Matt barked, leaping over a lounge chair and dodging between bustling S.H.I.E.L.D agents. The mercenary turned, surprised to see the blind lawyer.

“Speak of the Devil!” He exclaimed as Matt rushed up to him.

“You were talking about me in there? What for? Please keep me out of your business conversations.” Matt grumbled, grabbing Wade's arm and yanking him back towards Morris' office.

“No...I've just always wanted to say that whenever I saw you coming.” He joked. Fury didn't bat his eye as Wade was pulled away. His meeting was over and he could care less what the two hero's were up to.

“We need to talk.” Matt stated, shoving Wade into the small office and towards the orange chair. “Morris...do you mind giving us a minute?” The agent nodded and quickly left before Matt closed the door and locked him out of his own office.

“Miss me?” Deadpool joked, a teasing grin showing through his mask.

“I haven't. But Spider-Man has missed you so bad it's made him sick. Or at least I think that's what's happening.” Matt huffed, sitting on the desk and folding his arms. Wade's playful smile faded, replaced with a look of confusion and worry.

“Wait...is he ok? I thought you were looking after him. What do you mean he's sick?”

“Well like...he has no energy or appetite and he's not his normal self...” Matt didn't know how to explain what he wasn't even sure was happening.

“So like...he has a cold or something?” Wade frowned, “Look as much as I love hearing about Spidey...and miss him like crazy, a cold isn't really too much to be concerned about. He's an adult and he has money now and if he feels a bit ill he can take himself to CVS.” he shrugged, trying not to let his emotions blow out of control. The subject of Spidey was still a fresh wound and the last thing he needed was for the boxes to be reminded of the whole situation.

“No Wade...it's not a cold. It's different...” Matt was growing frustrated. “He...the first day I came back and he was alone I found him and he had been sobbing and throwing up apparently. He asked me where you were and when I explained I didn't know he actually had a full blow panic attack. It was scary, for a moment I thought he was actually dying.” Matt explained.

“What...why would...it must have been because of the letter. He probably freaked after reading that I know his secret identity.” Wade sighed, feeling guilty for causing Peter so much pain.

[Way to go dumb ass, you left but still found a way to ruin his day.] White grumped.

{I miss him...} Yellow whimpered.

“No, he wasn't scared...not like that. He wasn't mad or upset either. Ever since then he's been getting worse. Like I said he won't eat, hardly talks...it's like he's just completely...dead inside. But I can tell he's hurting. A few times at night before I leave I can hear him whispering under his breath in his bed. He's pleaded for you to come back before. I think...I think you actually broke him by leaving.” Matt tried putting the pieces together as he told them to Wade.

The mercenary looked wounded, shoulder's slumping.

“B-broke him?” He repeated quietly.

“Broke his heart. He's depressed Wade. I'm worried about him. I know you're the only one who can figure out why he's hurting. I've tried everything but he wont talk to me. And I know you said you had to leave because you broke his trust and he would be mad at you...but I just don't think he is. I think he's incredibly sad.” A long silence settled between the two and the murmur of muffled voices and life continuing on outside the office walls was the only sound. Then Wade let out a long sigh, head hung low.

[What is he trying to say?]

{Spidey misses us? He want's us to come back?}

[That isn't right, he must be mistaken. He's probably just upset about everything we told him in the letter.] Whit grumped.

“Listen,” Wade began, feeling more dejected than ever, “I'm sure you're just misreading things. It's...it's better this way. As much as it hurts me to admit it.” His heart ached thinking about the wall crawler, but he had to try and block all thoughts of him or he would never be able to make it through the day.

“Misreading things? Yeah I'm sure everything I've been witnessing happen for the past week was just me overthinking it all. I'm positive the lack of serotonin chemicals that I can usually smell being released in people's brains is all in my head. I'm sure the depression he's going through is all completely fake and has absolutely nothing to do with you just disappearing. Oh yeah, I'm totally misreading things.” Matt barked, voice growing louder and louder. “You know what, if you're so sure I'm misreading all of this then why don't you come with me so you can properly read the conversation yourself!” Matt grabbed him by the shoulder and hauled him out of the office, pushing past Morris.

“Wait...but I...” Wade tried to object but Matt was having none of it and continued to drag the mercenary down the hall.

“Morris!” The hero shouted, “Drive us to the Mandarin Oriental Hotel. And don't slow poke it.” He demanded before turning to Wade, “He better still be there, and you better make this right.”

[No, we can't go with him. We're going to screw everything up. We decided this was for the best, remember?] White yelled, voice screeching in Wade's mind like a siren.

{Stop it! For once in your miserable life just stop! We've seen Spidey hurt for too long! If Daredevil is right...if Peter is actually in pain over us leaving, then we HAVE to go back-}

[It's a risk!] They argued. [We don't know if Matt is even right.]

{It's a risk we are going to take! Spidey is worth it, he's always been worth it. That's why we left in the first place.}Yellow reminded them.

Wade listened to their bickering, not knowing what he was hoping to learn by letting Matt drag him back to Spidey. All he knew was he couldn't take it if Petey looked at him, anger burning in his eyes and told him to leave. He'd probably run and leap off the balcony. But the alternate possibility, finding Spidey broken and sorrow filled over his disappearance, smiling with happiness sparkling in his eyes when Wade finally returned, that made the risk worth it all.

He spent the whole car ride in his thoughts, imaging the millions of possible scenarios that could go down. He had to be prepared for anything Petey might say, anything he might do. However, what he didn't prepare for was finding the hotel room completely empty, no sign of Peter or the suit.

“He must be out patrolling.” Matt decided after searching the bedroom for the hundredth time. “This isn't good. Last time he went out he came back all beat up. He hasn't been eating so he really doesn't have the energy to be doing this. We need to find him.” He stepped onto the balcony, listening carefully. The sun had just set and perhaps they had barely missed him. He strained his ears for the sound of Spider-Man's webbing, or perhaps the struggles of a fight. There was nothing.

“Morris,” he called to the detective who had followed them inside, still chattering on about his new position at S.H.I.E.L.D. “Take us driving.”

“Where to exactly?”

“Around, like before. If he's out there fighting crime...I'll hear it.” Matt huffed and the three quickly left the room.

 

* * *

 

Out across the town, several blocks from the hotel, hidden from the bustle of the city, Spider-Man perched on the edge of a construction site. He popped in his new webbing cartridges, that was the only productive thing he had done all week, buy the materials to make new webbing. In fact, that was the only thing he had even bought with the money Wade had given him. He felt wrong, spending the man's cash, especially when he wasn't around.

The thought of the mercenary brought back an overwhelming ache to his heart and he clutched at his chest, trying to will it away. It was an actual physical pain that made him sick, and his body and mind suffered for it.

He couldn't figure out why this time was so much worse than the first time Wade had mysteriously left. Everyday was like torture, the wound in his heart worsening with the passing hours. Patrolling was the closest he could get to ridding his mind of the mercenary. Still, even crime fighting brought back fond memories they shared together...he missed him dearly. It was more than just missing though, he had quickly admitted, he loved him, that much he knew for a fact now. And it pained him to think that Wade had vanished, just before he could tell him.

As he spiraled further into misery atop the construction building, two sports cars skidded into the lot, kicking up dust. Almost instantly the engines were shut off and a group of people climbed out of each vehicle.

“I told you man, these things are fast! Old guys ain't got no business driving these cars.” One man joked, smacking his friend on the back. A chorus of laughter erupted from them before loud sirens could be heard around the block. One man darted for the car but was stopped by his friend.

“Hold it Lenny,” he kept his hands tight on the man's shoulder as the sirens began to fade into the distance, slowly getting farther away. “See, ain't no way they could catch us. We lost them blocks ago.” He beamed and the gang of friends seemed to relax.

“Car jacking...” Peter muttered to himself, unamused as he webbed his way down to confront them. He intended to make a few quips at them, like he used to, but the motivation left him and he opted for silently webbing them up. However, his plans were foiled by his own folly as he landed, without looking, in section of drying concrete. A loud squelching sound echoed through the site as he found himself knee deep in the thick gray substance. He groaned, that was going to be a pain to wash out of his suit.

“What the hell was that!?” One of the thugs shouted, yanking his gun out of his pants and aiming towards the noise. There eyes soon landed on Spider-Man as he attempted to jump out of the concrete. His spidey sense shot off an alarm and he quickly ducked as bullets whizzed over his head. He was off his game as now the thick wet concrete was caked to his thighs. Knowing he couldn't fight them from there, he shot a web and yanked himself free, flying over their heads.

As they tried to follow him with their guns, firing too slow to hit him, Peter retaliated. He webbed the gun from one man's hand, tossing it aside where it couldn't hurt anyone. Then he went for the other guns, edging closer to the cars, ready to fight one on one. As he shot another web, successfully tying one man's feet together another warning tingle shivered down his spine. But this one was a little late and he was roughly smacked form behind with a lug wrench. He stumbled forward from the blow, turning just in time to see a tired looking man who had stayed behind in the car, only now joining the fight. He swung the x shaped wrench at Peter again who swiftly rolled out of the way, wincing at the pain in his shoulder.

He wasn't fast enough, didn't have enough energy, enough will to fight like he usually did. He found himself asking “what's the point” as the thugs all jumped on him at once. He was miserable, sad, broken and wanting nothing more than for the pain to go away.

“How...is it better this way?” He thought as the man with the lug wrench smacked him over the head with it once, twice, and his vision began to blur. He groaned loudly, limbs falling limp. He felt a warm substance trickling down his brow and making his mask sticky.

“What do we do? What if he chases after us when he wakes up we...we-” the leader of the pack began to flip out, as the group huddled around the defeated hero.

“Throw him in that drying concrete and let's get the fuck outta here!” One man suggested and the others quickly followed his instructions. They dragged him through the dirt, blood smearing across the ground before hauling him face first into the concrete. He sunk some, nothing but his shoulders and the back of his head sticking out of the mud like goo.

“Let's go let's go let's go!” One man barked and they all rushed for the stollen cars. The engines revved loudly as they began to speed off towards the one exit. But they came to a halting stop when a small black car rolled up seemingly from out of nowhere and blocked their path.

“Move!” One of the drivers shouted, laying on the horn. They watched in confusion as a man in red with horns protruding from his mask stepped out of the front seat. He unclipped a metal stick from his utility belt and pointed it at the two cars. Then without warning he summersaulted into the air and landed on the hood, smashing the windshield with his weapon.

“It's a fucking devil!” The back passengers shrieked, trying to scrambled from the car filled with tiny glass shards.

“I'm not the devil you need to worry about.” Matt growled, yanking the driver out of his seat and onto the ground, knocking him out cold with a swift kick to the head. “He is.” He grumbled to himself, looking up just in time to see Wade throw himself at the group of confused thugs, brandishing his katanas. He swung the lethal blades with precision, slicing a horrid gash up one man's back and shis-kabobing another through both his shoulder blades. Morris wasn't one to be left out. The agent stood behind his own car, firing at the other stollen vehicle in an attempt to get it's riders to abandon it.

“Wade i've got these idiots, he's over there! Hurry.” Matt shouted over the blood curdling screams of agony. Wade didn't hesitate to abandon the fight and rushed towards the drying cement.

{They better not have seriously hurt him!} Yellow hissed.

[There, there! He can't breathe in there get him out!] White panicked. Wade pushed through the thick concrete, grabbing Spidey by the shoulders and hoisted him straight up. He stumbled backwards until he was on dry ground and gently placed Petey on his back.

{Is he moving! Is he breathing! He's covered in wet cement!!} Yellow freaked. Wade didn't think twice and quickly yanked the mask off his head completely. Peter immediately gasped, eyes pinched shut as he took shaky inhales.

[His head! It's bleeding. Those fucks...] White growled, urging Wade to go exact revenge, but the mercenary didn't budge, and instead gently patted Peter's opposite cheek.

“It's alright just breathe. You'll be fine now I-” He was interrupted as Peter flitted his eyes open and stared at the mercenary silently.

“H-hey Spidey I-” Again he stopped as large round tears bubbled over Peter's eyes and dripped down his face, smearing the blood.

“W-wade?” He croaked, lip trembling as he tried to reach up and hold the mercenary close.

{He missed us. He really missed us.} Yellow cried.

[I don't...he...H-hold him you idiot!] White exclaimed. Wade didn't hesitate and quickly scooped the hero up pulling him flush against his chest. He cradled Peter's head in his hands and tucked it in the crook of his neck.

“I'm here, It's me baby boy I'm here.” Wade felt his hear shattering as Peter quivered against him, whimpering his name into the leather of his suit.

“Don't go. P-please please don't leave me again.” Peter begged. “I can't..n-not again.”

“I won't. I won't Spidey baby, I'm not going anywhere. I'm so sorry, I was wrong...It's not better this way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, sorry for the wait. 
> 
> I don't have a tid-bit for this chapter :( mainly because i've run out of them and because the end of the story is upon us! Look out for that rating change ;) Whenever I'm 100% on which chapter will be the last, I'll update the fic so you guys will know when. (EDIT: this is not the last chapter, don't worry) You all have been so kind, especially with your kudos and comments, I really appreciate them. 
> 
> Also...sequel anyone?


	15. Poverty Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter finally finds himself free of the burdens of poverty, true poverty.

The car ride back to the hotel was agonizingly slow. Wade wanted nothing more than to just snap his fingers and teleport him and Spidey back to the Mandarin Orient. There he could properly comfort the emotional hero in his arms. Instead, he was forced to wait in the back seat of Morris' car as he navigated the roads of New York City.

Matt and Morris quietly sat in the front, making no comment to the sad whimpers and sobs coming from the back. Peter was tucked safely in Wade's lap, arms thrown around the mercenary. He kept his head nestled in the crook of Wade's neck, as if convinced that the man would leave again unless Peter held onto him for dear life.

Wade had taken off his own mask and let Peter wear it to keep his face hidden, leaving the mercenary exposed and blushing.

“It's alright now...” he whispered quietly while rubbing circles over Peter's back. “I've got you.”

{If Matt or Morris say a word...}Yellow left the threat open ended, allowing Wade to get creative with what he would do if they dared to say anything to the distraught hero.

[Tell Morris to go faster, the sooner we can console Peter the better.] White grumbled.

“Hey, speed it up maybe?” Wade growled, kicking the back of Morris' seat. If they waited any longer Peter's suit would become a concrete cast, trapping him inside.

“Almost there.” Matt sighed. It was torture hearing the pitiful noises coming from Spider-Man, but seeing how quickly he had latched onto Wade and refused to let go, let Matt know he had made the right decision. Wade was the only one who could fix this.

“Is he going to be ok?” Morris whispered so quietly it was practically a thought, Matt, of course, heard it and shrugged in response. Morris wasn't the only one who was concerned about Peter though, the boxes were worried sick.

{He's been through a lot. Homelessness, getting fucking stabbed by a crazy woman, kidnapped and almost auctioned off, and then we made him depressed...oh god we really are the worst. How could we do this to him? Do you feel him shaking against us?} Yellow squawked.

[He's holding on so tight...why...why did he miss us so much? I don't get it...After we hurt him, lied to him, broke his trust...why did he miss us? Why is he clinging to us like he's scared to lose us?] White was beyond confused and all the thinking made Wade's head hurt.

“Maybe we actually mean something to him.” Wade thought in response.

[No...impossible. That's impossible right?]

{It's not impossible! Clearly he loves us.}

[Ok now that much I know is impossible.] White huffed.

{NO IT'S NOT! PETE...} The boxes abruptly stopped when Peter took a shaky inhale and snuggled himself impossibly closer. The movement and warmth radiating off Peter made Wade realize that he had been holding Spidey close in his arms and this was literally something he had dreamed about. Except his fantasies had been so, so different. He never wanted Spidey to be a sobbing hurt mess, holding on from desperation. That in itself kept his usual flirtations at bay, Spidey needed his help and he wasn't about to take advantage of that.

Finally Morris pulled up to the front of the hotel and Wade practically flung himself from the car, still holding Peter in his arms.

“Thanks Matt..and uh, you too Morris.” Wade called, not bothering to say goodbye to them. He raced for the lobby as Peter looped his legs around the mercenaries' middle, wrapped around him like a baby koala. Wade ignored the many confused faces of onlookers as he sped towards the elevators. No doubt people were rather shocked to see what looked like Spider-Man being held by an unmasked Deadpool in the Mandarin Hotel. However, the death glare they received from the mercenary was enough to stop them from asking questions.

“Hey, we're almost at the room. You hungry? I'll cook you something while you take a bath and then I think you should call it a night, and we can talk in the morning. How does that sound?” He tried to coax Peter into calming down enough to talk to him. Peter reigned in his sorrowful hiccups, managing to nod silently. He couldn't summon words yet, he wasn't even sure what he wanted to say. All he knew was that Wade was there, holding him, and he didn't want him to ever let go. He was hardly aware of where he was or what was going on until he felt Wade push him away slowly and the warmth of the mercenary was gone.

Peter tried to focus on his breathing as he rubbed at his eyes, trying to clear his tear blurred vision. He slowly began to realize he was back in the hotel room, sitting on the lid of the toilet while an unmasked Deadpool began to fill up the tub. He stared silently at the mercenary until the tub was brimming with bubbles, lost in thought as he took in the features of Wade's face. He hardly ever got to see Wade without the mask completely off, and all he could do was stare at his expressive bright blue eyes. So calm, yet so full of life.

“I'll be in the kitchen. Want anything specific?” Wade asked, turning towards Peter as he headed out.

“N-no.” he somehow managed, despite barely even registering what Wade had asked him. The moment the older man left, shutting the door behind him, Peter was left with his own confused and swirling emotions. He stood and pulled off the mask, only now noticing it wasn't his own. Then he shrugged off his suit and slipped into the warm water and bubbles that Wade had added just for fun. The hot water kissed his skin and the purple bruises forming along his limbs. His head was throbbing from where he had been smacked multiple times, and the crying really hadn't done anything but make the ache worse. His heart was constantly twisting, thumping and racing in his chest, the sting of abandonment fresh after seeing Wade's face. However, at the same time he could sense a small wave of relief washing over him, but, only when he knew Wade was there. Only when he could see him, feel him, hear him. Only when he was one hundred percent positive that the mercenary was here to stay could he be completely relieved.

Peter reached for the rag that was draped over the tubs edge, clutching it in his shaking hands. What if Wade left again while he was in the bathroom? He couldn't let that happen. And deep down he knew...knew it was a silly thought, but how could he possibly trust that Wade wouldn't leave him a third time?

“W-wade!” He suddenly shouted, finally finding his own voice. It felt weird, talking so loudly after being silent for such a long time. The volume of his own words made him wince. He couldn't hear a response and immediately his heart rate flew through the roof.

“WADE! WADE COME HERE!” He cried louder and this time there was a clatter from the kitchen and the sound of racing feet as Wade barged through the bedroom. He didn't hesitate to fling open the bathroom door, worry written all over his face.

“What's wrong!? Are you okay?” He panted, pulse rising at the possibility that Peter was in danger. His eyes met Peter's sorrow filled gaze, and he felt a knife in his heart all over again. The poor wall crawlers eyes were tinted red from all his crying and his face was a little on the puffy side.

{He's downright adorable...I...I can't even...} Yellow gasped.

“Taking mental picture.” Wade agreed. He watched as Peter stuck out his bottom lip in a puppy dog pout, slowly shaking his head.

“No.” He finally answered.

“What's the matter then?” Wade hurried to the side of the tub, crouching onto his knees. Peter didn't know how exactly to tell him that he needed him to stay there in the bathroom until he was done. Didn't know how to say he couldn't stand to see him leave and just the thought of him vanishing again was enough to make him hysterical. He couldn't configure a way to let Wade know that he just had to see him right now, had to hear his voice and know he was close.

Instead he lifted his arm out of the bubbles and held the wet rag out towards him.

“I...just...can you...” he didn't know what he was asking for exactly and the sentence seemed to finish itself. “can you help me? M-my head is just...I can't...” He felt like he could cry again as Wade looked at him concerned without a word. Then he simply nodded, removing his gloves and taking the rag. All of Peter's worries floated down the drain the moment he felt those hands on him again. He was like putty, moving in whichever way Wade nudged him.

{This is like a dream come true.} Yellow sighed. Wade wanted to agree, but something wasn’t right. Peter wasn’t making any eye contact and his shoulders slumped forward.

[We really did a number on him. He’s like…totally defeated by life or something.] White noted and Wade hummed, this much was clearly true.

[Be gentle with him.] White suggested, [We need to try and make him feel better somehow.]

“Hey, uh…how do you feel? You know…after getting tossed around by those car jackers?” Wade asked as he slid the damp cloth over Peter’s shoulders.

“I’m ok…head hurts though.” Peter muttered, tilting it to the side as Wade carefully grabbed his chin in an attempt to get a better look at the scabbed up wound. He winced at the ugly gash over his baby boy’s brows, dried blood caked to his face and tangled in his hair. Gently as he could he wiped the dried crimson drops away. He noticed the way Peter leaned into his touch, back pressing against the edge of the tub.

Wade held back a shutter, unable to control his pounding heart. Sure he was helping Spidey, although why the hero wanted his help was beyond him, but this...this was practically intimate.

{It is intimate. He's completely naked in a tub, leaning into our hands as you clean him off with a wet rag! This tops that time with the burrito by far. WHY DID WE ADD SO MANY BUBBLES!?} Yellow screamed.

[If we hadn't added bubbles there is no way we would be able to function right now.] White snorted.

“This...this isn't about us...this is about helping Petey.” Wade shushed them in his mind, trying his best to keep his thoughts from wondering. But the feel of Peter's smooth, slick skin under his calloused hands was damn distracting. All he found himself able to do was run the rag over his shoulders and neck, completely mesmerized.

[You're too timid, he asked for our help, he's a pitiful mess, it's time you took care of him already. You may not get this chance again.] White urged him on and Wade knew he was right. He dug deep, rekindling those repressed feelings. He had always wanted to take care of Spidey, and hell if now wasn't the time for it.

He draped the rag back over the edge of the tub and placed a firm hand on the back of Peter's neck, guiding him towards the faucet.

“Lay down.” he instructed, pleased when Peter didn't question him and let him cradle his head just above the water. Peter scrunched his eyes closed as Wade let the warm water run from the tap over his acorn brown hair. Then he carefully pulled him back up and poured a generous amount of shampoo into his palm. He slowly worked it into Peter's hair, scrubbing the rest of the clotted blood from his roots.

Peter gave a heavy sigh, tension leaving his body when Wade massaged his scalp. It was a nice feeling, making him more relaxed than he had been in a while. He slid down the side of the tub some, letting his shoulders dip into the bubbles as Wade lathered the suds. Those strong hands running their fingers through his hair sent small shivers down Peter's spine. He soon found himself imagining them beginning to stray from his head, roaming down his neck, overs his back and exploring the rest of his body with the same vigor. He bit his bottom lip when his thoughts sparked a twitch of arousal. His cheeks were flushed red, he just knew it, and quickly looked down, trying to slip further into the bubbles in hopes to hide. Now wasn't the time for this...now wasn't the time to tell Wade how he was beginning to feel, not yet. He was still feeling insecure about the mercenary leaving him, he needed to know he would stay before he spilled his heart to the man, no matter what his body decided to do prematurely.

“It's...too hot.” He whispered when Wade finally lowered him back under the running water. He hoped the cool stream might help to suppress his pounding heart and wondering thoughts, instead it only made him more aware of the warm fingers raking the soap away.

When Wade finally pulled him back up he was a flustered mess, trying not to let it show. Every time the mercenary touched him, pressing those scarred hands against his bare skin, he imagined them slowly sliding down his body. Tingles tickled his nerves and Peter knew if it continued he'd have a boner he'd have to worry about.

Thank god for the bubbles.

However, his plans of preventing further arousal were thwarted when Wade suddenly grabbed the rag back up, this time dipping his hand bellow the water and running it along his spine down the length of his back. Peter couldn't help but lean forward, allowing the man better access. It was painfully thrilling finally having Wade's hands traveling along his skin in other places; his arms, sides, chest, stomach and feet. It was almost torture, his mind practically begging for him to plunge further into the tub and grab his neglected member. Peter had to swallow a groan at the tease of feeling Wade scrub his lower thigh, so close. Then Wade didn't stop, continuing to work his way up until Peter's eyes shot open and he quickly grabbed his wrist, stilling Wade's hand in the water, mere inches from his hip. A deep blush burned Peter's cheeks as he met Wade's eyes, did he just make it weird? He had asked him for help after all. But he couldn't possibly let him wash his dick, not when he was half mast and keeping his true feelings a secret.

“I c-can finish...” he stammered out, trying hard not to pant as his heart hammered in his own ears. “Thank you...can you wait for me though? Leave the door open.” He sighed as Wade nodded and stood, wiping the suds from his hands and suit.

[You blew that...had to go and take it too far.]

“Hey, proper hygiene is important.” Wade grumbled back.

{That was still amazing. Did you see his delicious blush? He looked so relaxed when we washed his hair. From now on let's just wash his hair for him.} Yellow hummed happily. Wade stood in agreement with Yellow as he searched through the bedroom closet for the softest pajamas he had bought for Petey. From what he could tell, it almost looked like the closet had hardly been touched, most of the clothes were exactly where he had left them.

[He probably doesn't like our charity.] White huffed.

“Well damn if he isn't going to get it.” Wade retorted, grabbing a pair of mens sized Hello Kitty pajama pants and a random loose shirt.

{That's what I'm talking about! You can just shut the hell up White, Wade's got this!} Yellow cheered the mercenary on as he walked back to the bathroom and gently knocked on the ajar door.

“Spidey, got you some clean clothes. I'm hanging them on the doorknob.” He called, trying hard not to look at the mirror to catch the hero's reflection. He then walked to the other side of the room, hoping to distract himself by looking out the window at the night life bellow.

[We're going to have to talk with him. What if he wants to talk tonight? What are we going to say?]

“The truth.”

{What is the truth? You're going to tell him you were a coward? I find that hard to believe.}

“He deserves the truth. I mean, I already wrote it in the letter, but I'm sure he'll have more questions.” Wade sighed under his breath.

[What if he doesn't, what if he comes out of the bathroom and wants to chew us out for leaving. There's no way he won't get mad at us eventually.] White grumbled. [Why he isn't mad now is a mystery to me. I would have been mad.]

{You're always mad so that's not a surprise. Besides...I really don't think he's in the mood to fuss at anybody. He's all cuddly and cute and clingy.} Yellow squealed.

“Which...is out of character a bit.” Wade added.

{Who cares, I say it's a nice change.}

[But WHY!? Am I the only one asking the important questions here? Why did he change?] White barked, getting more and more frustrated by the second.

Wade was about to respond but swallowed his words when he heard the bathroom door open behind him. He turned, prepared to ask the hero if he wanted something to eat, but again, ended up saying nothing. Instead he raised a brow curiously, watching as Peter stood in the doorway, head hung low, avoiding eye contact. His hair was dripping wet, drops of water falling onto his shirt and dampening the fabric. He looked like there was an invisible storm cloud hanging over his head, pouring rain down on him.

“Baby boy, you'r hair is soaking wet.” Wade huffed, pushing past him to grab a towel from the bathroom. Peter didn't say anything, didn't move a muscle as Wade draped the fuzzy white towel over his head like a ghost and scrubbed at his hair.

[Why wouldn't he dry his hair? See? He is acting weird!] White noted, but was ignored by Yellow.

{He's like a little puppy. Wants to be taken care of.} He cooed.

“Do you always get out of the shower with your hair dripping wet everywhere? How do you not get sick all the time?” Wade joked. He moved the towel so it sat on Peter's head like a hood, allowing him to see the hero's face. His cheeks were dusted red, but he continued to look down at the floor. His hands were clenched, grabbing the fabric on the sides of his pants. He looked like he was trying desperately to keep something bottled deep down, and Wade wasn't having any of that.

“Hey, what's wrong? I know I said we can talk in the morning, but if you have something to say you can say it now.” Wade encouraged him, voice dropping an octave into a more serious tone. He cupped Peter's cheeks in his hands and tilted his face up to meet his gaze, but Peter darted his eyes away, looking at the wall this time.

“It's alright, I won't be mad or hurt or anything...if that's what you're worried about.” Wade tried to coax him into speaking, but Spidey simply bit his bottom lip, keeping his words trapped. Wade frowned, unable to hide his disappointment without the mask.

“Peter, look at me.” Hearing his name spoken from the mercenaries mouth, and in a command no less, made the blush on his face deepen, spreading to his ears. He finally made eye contact, quivering just barely. Wade couldn't figure out what was wrong or why Peter was so distraught, but it was all very upsetting.

Peter felt so incredibly vulnerable, staring straight into Wade's eyes without the masks between them. It made him shiver, it was equivalent to standing completely naked in your classroom in some horrible nightmare your mind conjured up to torture you in your sleep. Having Wade's hands gripping his cheeks, keeping his attention on him only made the feeling that much more frightening. Then the mercenary had said his name and his heart leapt into his throat. That arousal he had tried to combat was stirring again, but he wasn't ready...wasn't ready to talk yet. He needed to know Wade wouldn't leave him, needed to know this was all real and not some surreal dream his depressed brain was attempting to comfort him with.

“I...”He started, but the words died. Wade's gaze was so intense, it was as if he was reading into Peter's soul, willing him to speak. Peter quickly pinched his eyes shut and leaned forward, pressing himself against the mercenaries' chest. He hid his face in the crook of Wade's neck and let the towel drape over him like a blanket.

Wade let out a surprised sound when Peter pressed against him and pulled him tighter by wrapping his arms around his back.

“W-what's gotten into you?” Was all Wade could think to ask, too shocked to say anything helpful.

“Tired.” Was Peter's response, his voice practically a whisper in Wade's ear. That was all he needed to hear and quickly scooped Peter up, carrying him towards the bed. He laid him down carefully before grabbing the towel and chucking it towards the bathroom door, and didn't hesitate to pull the thick covers up to Peter's chin.

“Sleep tight Spidey.” He leaned down to kiss his forehead but paused midway, opting for ruffling his hair instead. He smiled softly before turning to leave, but was stopped when Peter's hand darted out from under the sheets and grabbed his wrist.

“Stay...please.” He asked shyly, sitting up. Although his face wasn't contorted with pain, the small plea struck a nerve with the mercenary, reminding him of that fated time on the roof where he held a wounded Spidey in his lap, listening to him beg for him to stay. It was the same desperate cry for help.

“I'm not leaving. I'll still be here when you wake up, I'll cook us breakfast.” Wade chuckled, finding it oddly cute how Peter was so adamant about him not leaving.

“How...how do I know that? Last time when I woke up here, you were...you...” His lip trembled, and he really didn't want to cry again, he was done with crying, it made his head hurt and his nose stuffy. He had cried enough over this, but his heart still stung. He wiped a stubborn tear from his cheek and frowned down at the comforter. He continued to hold tight to Wade's wrist, refusing to let him go, he wouldn't ever let him go.

“I promise I'm not leaving, I'll be in the other room.” He pointed out towards the living area but didn't move, waiting for Peter to agree. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to convince Peter that he wasn't going anywhere, maybe other than chaining himself to the couch.

{We left our handcuffs at home.} Yellow reminded him.

Peter still didn't release him, instead looking up with the saddest puppy dog pout and Bambi eyes. The hero gave a small tug to his arm and Wade's eyes widened,

“Does he...does he want me to stay in the bed?” he panicked at the boxes.

{YES! OH MY GOD YES!}

[I don't even know what to say.]

{CLIMB IN! What are you waiting for?} Yellow demanded. Wade hesitated for a moment then Peter pulled him again, a bit harder this time.

“Will you...stay in here? You can sleep in the bed I don't care. It's just...I won't be able to sleep. I'll be up wondering if you've left again. And I know I wont be brave enough to check...” he lost to the tears again, after keeping everything bottled up, it was hard not to let them slip out. It was too much on him. “I'll be awake all night just wondering, and I can't...” he inhaled through his sobs.

Wade immediately moved, crawling into the bed beside him and pulling him close against his chest. He let Peter catch his breath, trembling against him like a leaf in the wind.

“It's ok, I'll stay right here, I'm not going anywhere.” Wade assured him, hugging him impossibly closer and raking his fingers in soothing circles over Peter's back. He shushed him quietly, whispering reassurances to him through the night and until Peter's breathes were slow and deep. He continued to embrace him in warmth, long after his arm, and Peter, had fallen asleep. This was a side of the hero he had never seen before, sad, insecure and completely broken. It hurt him deeply knowing he had been the cause of this. He was determined to do anything to get his confident quipping Spidey back. Despite how nice it was to have Peter clinging to him like his life depended on it...and maybe it did.

 

* * *

 

 

Death, it felt like death had stuck her cold icy claws into his chest and was attempting to yank his heart right out of his body. At least, that's what Peter imagined was happening when he woke up from the best sleep he'd had in forever. It had all been a dream, a horrible trick, he concluded after finding the bed empty and the arms around him gone. Or maybe Wade had really been there, and he'd left again, just like he promised he wouldn't do. Was the mercenary hell bent on making his life utterly miserable?

Peter rolled onto his side, whining at the mere fact he was totally alone. The spot beside him was still warm, even the pillow smelled like Wade. Exhausted, frustrated and miserable, that's how he would describe the gaping wound where his heart should be. What was the point of even getting out of bed? Would the mercenary even be in the living room? Peter wondered how long he had stayed, how long after he had fallen asleep had he slipped out into the night, taking another piece of Peter's heart with him. He'd never mend it back completely, not after the damage Wade had done.

Peter tried to be angry instead, desperate to feel any emotion other than crippling sorrow. Just when he thought he could muster an ounce of bitterness, the bedroom door swung open and Deadpool marched in, mask back on and carrying a plate of pancakes.

“Morning baby boy!” He exclaimed, the cheeriness in his voice giving Peter emotional whiplash. He blinked at Wade a few times, mouth hung open in shock as if the possibility that Wade had actually stayed didn't ever occur to him.

“Y-you're still here!” He exclaimed, pushing himself up into a sitting position.

“Yes, I promised after all. Now you aren't weaseling your way out of food again. Eat up.” Wade instructed, sitting beside Peter and holding a fork of cut pancakes up to his mouth. “Say ah.” He smiled, teasing in his usual “Deadpooly” voice. Peter fought a blush but opened his mouth anyways and let Wade coddle him by feeding him his breakfast. It was nice, finally having something in his stomach without feeling like he wanted to rush for the bathroom and just vomit. Peter could feel his heart rate calming, his muscles relaxing and his worries fading away. Wade was here, he had stayed, and Peter would make sure he stayed for good.

Once he had finished the pancakes, Wade set the plate aside and turned back towards Peter.

“So...feeling better this morning?” He asked, “You look a whole lot better.”

“Yeah, I do. Thank you for staying with me and helping me out. I really appreciate it, but...” He paused, unsure of where he wanted to take the conversation. He knew he needed to talk with Wade, get the whole identity thing out of the way. But at the moment, what was really pressing at his heart, was the feelings of love that had been blossoming, ever kept in the dark. Wade started before he could gather his thoughts and build up the nerve.

“Look...Peter,” he inhaled slowly, discomfort written on his face, showing through the mask, “I just want us to be able to be friends again, and I'm sure I ruined that and clearly you're wounded over it. I want you to know how truly sorry I am about it. If you need to chew me out about it that's totally fine and I honestly deserve it. If you want me to leave you alone, I'll do that too.” He put his hands between his knees nervously.

“Wade,” Peter scooted closer, “I'm hurt because you disappeared...and I know you left a note like you promised. But...I don't know, it just...when you went on that S.HI.E.L.D mission all those months ago I realized something and I should have told you sooner, but I was scared and had issues in my personal life that I needed to deal with. But when I was taken by Josh, I promised myself I would tell you everything. I knew you were always there for me, you had always been there, you are...the only person I have left. And when I woke up and you weren't there...I...I...” his voice cracked a bit but he was strong and fought back the tears, he wasn't going to break down now. “I felt more alone than I ever had.”

Wade looked up at him, pity and regret written on his features. It was hard, knowing he had caused Peter so much pain, but he couldn't be hurting, not when Peter was still suffering.

“Oh Petey, I...” his words failed him, not even sure what to say.

“And I know you think I hate you because of the whole identity thing. But I don't, when I found out I couldn't even bring myself to be mad at you even a little bit. You were worried about me and I can't be mad at you for trying to keep me safe. I need you to know that.” Peter assured him. He looked for any reaction on Wade's face, but he wasn't letting his emotions show through the mask like he usually did, and Peter felt cut out and unsure if Wade was able to understand what he was telling him.

“Well that's, uh, kind of you to say Petey. But you don't have to be nice for my sake.” Wade gave a sad smile, trying to hide the doubt he was feeling.

“I'm not.”

“So, I take it we can still be friends?” Wade's voice was timid, waiting for what the hero would say.

“Well I...you see there's...there's something I need to tell you.” Peter could feel his cheeks heating up. This was it, this was the time, it was now or never. He couldn't hold it in any longer.

[Here it comes, the “but”. Lemme guess, “I forgive you BUT I never want to see you again.” Yeah he's totally about to drop that bomb on us.] White huffed in an “I told you so” tone.

{No...he can't....he wouldn't} Yellow sobbed. Wade tried not to let the boxes get to him, tried not to believe what they were saying, but it was hard to imagine Peter saying anything else.

“I think...” Peter took a shaky inhale before holding eye contact with Wade. “I love you. I think I love you like... _love_ love.” He bit his bottom lip after the confession spilled out, his finger tapping nervously on his knee as he waited for Wade to react.

{That's four loves!!!} Yellow screamed in Wade's ear like a banshee.

“I...W-wha...” Wade stammered.

[He's pulling our leg! This is a prank! This is his way of torturing us after we left him!] White concluded. That seemed the most reasonable and Wade rolled with that.

“I know I hurt you Spidey...but that's a low blow.” He muttered, looking down at his knees. It hurt...it really did.

“No I'm...I'm serious!” Peter exclaimed, he grabbed Wade's hand and yanked off his glove, tossing it to the ground. “Just close your eyes and feel.” Peter instructed, slipping Wade's hand under his shirt and pressing it flat over his racing heart. There was no way the mercenary couldn't detect the strum of beats that hammered away, pumped with the adrenaline of his confession. “Do you understand?” His whispered, hoping he was getting his point across. There were a million things he wanted to say, wanted to ask, wanted to know what was going through the mercenaries mind, but he recieved his answer when Wade all at once launched from the edge of the bed and toppled him back down into the covers.

He pressed a kiss to Peter's lips, separated only by his red leather mask.

{Take it off! Oh my god! My heart, I'm dying...} Yellow choked. Peter obliged the box unknowingly when he slid his thumb under the mercenaries' mask and pulled it off with a quick tug.

“You love me?” Wade whispered as he pressed a string of kisses from Peter's jaw to his ear.

“Y-yes.” Peter breathed back, overwhelmed by the sudden affection. He received a heated sloppy wet kiss, tingles shooting down his spine as the texture of Wade's mouth sparked his senses.

[That's why he was acting so weird...he's had a crush on us. AND YOU LEFT HIM AFTER HE WAS KIDNAPPED!] White realized, making Wade feel an unbridled anger towards his past self.

{Oh god, we broke his poor heart. Fix it. FIX IT!}

Wade ripped off his other glove and slipped his hands under Peter's shirt, rubbing his back and pulling him closer as he continued to run affectionate kisses down his neck, on his lips and in his fluffy brown hair. He cherished him like the treasure he had been hunting his whole life, finally safe in his possession.

“I've been holding back for so long baby boy, you don't understand.” Wade grunted, “seeing you in that paper thin tent tore my heart out. Never again Petey, I'll never let anything like that happen to you again.” He promised, earning an aroused whine from Peter who tried to meet his lips for another needy kiss.

“I'm taking care of you now.” He added, pausing for a moment and letting his hand sneak down between them, palming Peter's growing erection through his pants, “Will you let me take care of you Petey?” his voice was low like gravel and the poor hero practically shook with anticipation beneath him.

“Y-yes.” Peter gasped, squirming against Wade's hand.

“Yes what? Tell me what you want baby boy.” Wade stopped groping him, waiting for Peter to speak.

“I-I want you to take care of me.” Peter panted, his body was on fire from the sudden rush of stimulation he had only experienced in his dreams.

“As you wish.” Wade smiled, beginning to undo the many buckles and clasps from his suit. Soon he was down to nothing but his pants and Peter was hypnotized by his toned physique and massive biceps. It was rare that he got a chance to behold Wade's body and all its splendor, and having his perfect, yet scarred, pecs leaning over him was enough to bring him closer to the edge. He quickly reached out and ran his hands over Wade's rough textured skin. Then he immediately wriggled out of his own clothes, wanting to feel that same rough texture all over. He hadn't prepared to get so caught up and intimate with Wade right after his confession, in fact he wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but this felt right, and his body was begging for it. Had been begging for it for weeks now.

“Suck.” Wade demanded, sticking three of his fingers in Peter's mouth. Peter listened, sucking and running his tongue over Wade's fingers until the mercenary pulled them out, dripping with saliva.

A surprised squeak escaped the smaller man when Wade suddenly cuddled close again, slipping his hands behind Peter to grab his perfect bubble butt. He ground his hips down, pressing his own erection against Peter's while letting his fingers glide between the hero's cheeks, circling his tight hole.

Peter gasped, arching up into Wade at the wet, foreign sensation. It was new...and he wanted more.

“Don't worry,” Wade whispered, nipping the lobe of Peter's ear, “I'm taking care of you. I'll make you feel good Petey.” Wade promised. On top of desperately wanting to touch Peter all over and burry himself deep inside that perfect ass, he also felt like he really owed it to Peter, to make him feel amazing after causing him such grief and heartache for a whole week.

After teasing and circling Peter's entrance, he finally pressed one finger in to the knuckle, earning a whimper from the hero.

“You alright?” Wade asked, pausing for a moment.

“M-fine. Keep going.” Peter gasped out as he nuzzled into Wade's neck. What started out as an uncomfortable sting, soon turned into sparks of pleasure that shot straight to his dick and had him falling undone after Wade finally added another finger. He moaned and arched against Wade, his neglected member twitching between them. He tried to grind his hips upwards, hoping to find friction against Wade's paints but the mercenary placed a strong grip on his hip bone and held him down against the mattress.

“Wait baby boy.” Wade cooed, amused by Peter's needy whines for further stimulation. He pressed in a third finger and started searching for that “on” button. After a moment his finger tips eventually brushed against Peter's prostate and the hero practically jolted, eyes blowing wide.

“W-wade there, there.” He panted, trying to push down on Wade's hand and ride that wave of raw concentrated pleasure again. He had never experienced anything quite like it, and he knew if Wade continued he would orgasm without even touching his leaking erection. He could feel pressure building as he was pushed closer and closer to that anticipated edge.

Just when he was starting to slip into pure bliss, Wade pulled his hand away, leaving Peter moaning and terribly empty. He whined in frustration, trying to buck his hips, anything, to receive stimulation again before he fell away from that impending climax.

“W-wade,” he pleaded, looking at the bigger man confused.

“It's alright Petey, I'll get you there.” Wade huffed, before colliding their mouths together. He licked across the hero's teeth and inside his mouth, tasting him while he pulled his own aching dick from his pants and lined himself up. Peter gasped into the kiss when Wade started to slowly press into him, stretching his rim further. They moaned and panted until Wade was completely buried inside, leaving Peter feeling fuller than he'd ever been.

Peter's mind was a hazy mess, swirling with his buzzing senses and powerful emotions. All he could think was how amazingly incredible Wade felt, and how much he loved him. But even those thoughts were pushed from his mind when Wade pulled out and thrust back into him vigorously, slamming into Peter's sweet spot.

“Oh! W-Wade!” Peter shouted, seeing stars as Wade rammed that same bundle of nerves over and over again. His knuckles ached as he dug his fingers into Wade's back, holding on as the mercenary fucked him senseless. It wasn't long before he creeped back towards that edge driven by waves of pleasure. It was a pleasure filed warmth that pooled in his abdomen and tingled down to his toes. It made his legs feel numb and his mouth hang open as he dropped into euphoria.

“Wade I'm gonna...I'm” Peter moaned.

“Go a-ahead baby boy.” Wade panted in his ear, making sure to watch Peter's face when he suddenly cried the mercenaries name. Peter's orgasm was intense making his arms tremble, his nails leaving red scratches along Wade's back. His toes curled when Wade continued to rock into him until he reached his own breaking point. He kissed Peter with a passion, groaning as he came with warm spurts inside him.

Wade's arms wobbled before collapsed in a heap on Peter, covered in sweat and puddles of cum. It was a mess. They rode out the final shivering waves of their climax, pressed together and breathing in each other's scent.

[You're both a mess.] White sighed, he sounded somewhat relaxed for once.

{My life...it's finally complete.} Yellow was sobbing with joy.

Wade ignored their comments and scooped Peter into his arms, rolling onto his side and spooning the smaller man. He was still having a hard time processing the fact that Spider-Man, the Spider-Man, had confessed feelings to him, and that he had just tapped that fine ass.

“I love you Peter.” He smiled, humming with satisfaction into the nape of his neck. Peter's racing heart fluttered, brimming with pure joy as he snuggled into Wade's grip. For the first time in a long time he didn't feel alone, abandoned or forgotten. He was loved, cherished and precious to someone.

“I love you too.” He sighed. Wade had vowed to take care of him. Peter may have been Spider-Man, but it was Deadpool that rescued him, determined to pull him off the streets...Wade was his tent city hero, and he knew he would make everything better.

 

* * *

 

Morris had received a call from Fury The moment Wade and Spidey had left the vehicle. He wasn't too pleased his boss decided to phone while Matt was in the car, no doubt he would hear the whole thing, but he had answered none the less.

“Sir?”

“Agent Morris, return to headquarters asap. I got a report from another agent in the field claiming he ran across some of Fisk's goons. Said they were crazy powerful but unresponsive. Sounded a lot like those homeless soldiers Apotheke was cooking up. Thought you might want to take a look into it.” Fury grumbled.

“Of course sir. I'll be back shortly.” Morris responded before Fury hung up on him. He slid his phone into his coat pocket and cast a quick glance at Matt who was facing the window, probably pretending he hadn't heard a word of their conversation.

“Am I taking you home? Or...” Morris questioned.

“I'd much rather go home than back to S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters.” Matt responded, not bothering to start a real conversation. Morris nodded, turning up the volume of the radio to fill the awkward void of silence. His favorite talk show was on, it was a re-run but he didn't care. Anything was better than silence. The show host rattled on with some quote, from some lady, from some time ago, Morris wasn't sure.

“We think sometimes that poverty is only being hungry, naked and homeless. The poverty of being unwanted, unloved and uncared for is the greatest poverty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys...this has been a wild run and I hope the ending was satisfying to you all. If not, I plan on making a sequel and if you feel like maybe there was something you wanted to see but didn't, let me know and I'll see if i can find room for it in the second part :) I mean, I can always use a little something to beef up the chapters. 
> 
> I'm not sure when exactly I'll have the first chapter for the second part started (seeing as I haven't even started typing it yet) But I'm on Spring break, so who knows it could be next weekend!? Or next month XD... I'll keep my Instagram updated about progress on the sequel if you want to check that out. (wonky_writer)
> 
> https://www.instagram.com/wonky_writer/
> 
> You guys have been so sweet with your support and comments, I love you all and thank you so much for reading! See you in the next fic :) 
> 
> TID-BIT
> 
> Although today the risk for homelessness is very high, the number of homeless people has actually been steadily decreasing. Assistance to the homeless is increasing and more effective approaches are under way. There are many organizations whose sole purpose is to end the homeless epidemic. 
> 
> Since 2007, permanent supportive housing capacity has increased by 69% nationwide. And since 2013, re-housing capacity has grown by 204%
> 
> The exit rate of poverty has also increased, now sitting at 56%, where in the last decade it was around 34%
> 
> At times it may seem that things are hopeless and those less fortunate and living on the streets have nowhere to go. But there is and always will be someone out there who cares, someone who is willing to help and make a difference.


End file.
